KN 


GIFT  OF 
A.    F.    Morrison 


BIOLOGY 
LIBRARY 


KNOWING     BIRDS 
THROUGH  STORIES 


By  the  same  author 

KNOWING  INSECTS 
THROUGH  STORIES 

TN  this  delightful  work  Mr.  Bralliar  delicately 
-*•  reveals  some  of  the  most  surprising  truths 
about  insect  life  in  the  plainest,  simplest  language; 
and  in  his  characteristically  attractive  way  of 
moulding  his  material  into  stories,  he  fascinates 
both  the  child  and  the  adult  reader. 

The  truly  wonderful  things  the  author  tells 
about  bees,  butterflies,  moths,  grasshoppers, 
wasps,  ants,  flies,  and  other  denizens  of  the 
woods  and  fields  fairly  astound :  The  butterfly 
with  the  thousand  eyes,  the  worm  with  its  handle 
and  peculiar  antecedence,  hornets  that  make 
paper,  the  praying  mantis  that  devours  her 
husband,  idiosyncrasies  of  Madam  Doodlebug 
the  murderess,  marvellous  physical  power  of 
the  caddis  fly  in  moving  stones,  the  nations  and 
kingdoms  of  ants,  insects  with  air  bladders  on 
their  feet,  giant  assassin  bugs,  fairy  acrobats, 
the  danger  of  mosquitoes  and  the  dreaded 
housefly. 

While  pleasingly  simple  the  book  is  scien- 
tifically accurate  and  forms  an  easy  first  course 
in  natural  history.  With  six  color  plates,  eight 
half  tones  and  text  illustrations. 

12mo.     Cloth.    S2S  Pages.    $1.75,  Net. 

FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY,  Publishers 
354-360  Fourth  Avenue,  New  York 


PAIR  OF  YELLOW   WARBLERS 
[See  Chapter  441 


Knowing  Birds 
Through  Stories 

BY 

FLOYD  BRALLIAB 

AUTHOR  OF 


'  '  ILLUSTRATED 
W3TH  jy  W,ELy?>  PJiA.  J-E&,  I  N.  COLORS 


E.  R.  KALMBACH 

ASSISTANT  BIOLOGIST 

UNITED  STATES  DEPARTMENT  OP  AGRICULTURE 
AND 

OTHER   ILLUSTRATIONS   IN   BLACK-AND-WHITE 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

1922 


{  U  fc 

sy 

BIOLOGY 

LIBRARY 


GIFT  OF 


3Y 

FUNK  &AGNA,ES  COMPANY 

•[Prititwl^fti  Ihfc  United  etftea  of  JUjjeAcaj 
'      P'ubfi^hfcd:6  infisovemoer,'  19^!2r 


Copyright  under  the  Articles  of  the  Copyright  Convention 

of  the  Pan -American  Republice  and  the 

United  States,  August  11,   1910. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PBEFACE xi 

KEY  TO  THE  OBDEBS  OP  NOBTH  AMEBICAN  BIBDS.  . .  xiv 

CHAPTER 

I.    THE  LESSON  A  GOOSE  STABTED 1 

II.    THE  HOBNED  GBEBE 5 

III.  THE  GBEAT  DIVEB 11 

KEY  TO  PYGOPODES  17 

IV.  THE  CALIFOBNIA  GULL 18 

V.    THE  BLACK  TEBN 26 

KEY  TO  LONGIPENNES  AND  TUBINABES.  32 

VI.      THE   DOUBLE-CBESTED  COBMOBANT 33 

VII.    THE  WHITE  FISHEB 37 

KEY  TO  STEGANOPODES 44 

VIII.    JOHNNIE  GBEENHEAD 45 

IX.    JIMMY  THE  GOOSE 59 

X.    LADY  JANE  THE  SWAN 65 

XI.    THE  SHITEPOKE 75 

KEY  TO  HEBODIONES 80 

XII.    THE  SILENT  DANCER 81 

XIII.  THE  SOBA  RAIL 88 

XIV.  THE  AMEBICAN  COOT 93 

KEY  TO  PALUDICOL^ 97 

XV.    THE  KILLDEEB  98 

KEY  TO  LIMICOL^ 103 

XVI.    LADY  BETTY'S  HUSBAND 104 

v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XVII.    Tun  PRAIKIB  CHICKEN Ill 

KEY  TO  GALLING 119 

XVIII.    THB  MOURNING  DOVE 120 

XIX.    THE  TURKEY  BUZZARD 126 

XX.    THE  BALD  EAGLE 132 

XXL    FLEETWING  THE  SPARROW  HAWK 137 

XXII.  SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  144 

KEY  TO  RAPTORES  156 

XXIII.  THE  BELTED  KINGFISHER 157 

KEY  TO  COCCYGES 166 

XXIV.  Picus  THE  FLICKER 167 

XXV.    A  STRANGE  NEST 175 

XXVI.    THE  CHIMNEY  SWIFT 181 

XXVII.      EUBYTHROAT     188 

KEY  TO  MACROCHIRES 197 

XXVIII.    JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD 199 

XXIX.    SAM  BLACK 208 

XXX.     THE  BOBOLINK 219 

XXXI.    THE  GRAFTER 224 

XXXII.    THE  MEADOW  LARK 229 

XXXIII.  THE  HANGING  BIRD  234 

XXXIV.  PETER  THE  GOLDFINCH 241 

XXXV.    THE  SONG  SPARROW  247 

XXXVI.    THE  TOWHEE  250 

XXXVII.    THE  CARDINAL  253 

XXXVIII.    THE  INDIGO  BUNTING 258 

XXXIX.    THE  SUMMER  TANAGER 261 

XL.    FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING 265 

XLL     THE  CEDAR  WAXWING 275 

XLIL    THE  BUTCHER  BIRD  279 

XLIII.     THE  RED-EYED  VIREO 284 

XLIV.    THE  YELLOW  WARBLER  .  287 


CONTENTS  vii 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XLV.     THE  YELLOW-BREASTED  CHAT 290 

XL VI.     THE  MOCKING  BIRD 294 

XLVIL     SALLY  THE  HOUSE  WREN 300 

XLVIII.    THE  BROWN  CREEPER 307 

XLIX.    CREEPY    THE    WHITE-BREASTED    NUT- 
HATCH    311 

L.     THE  BLACK-CAPPED  CHICKADEE 316 

LI.     THE  BLUE-GRAY  GNATCATCHER 320 

LII.     THE  WOOD  THRUSH 323 

LIIL    THE  AMERICAN  EOBIN  326 

LIV.    AZURE  WINGS  THE  BLUEBIRD 333 

KEY  TO  PASSERES  .  .  338 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

PAIE  OF  YELLOW  WAEBLERS  (In  Colors) . . .  .Frontispiece 

FOOT  OF  THKEE-TOED  WOODPECKER xiv 

FOOT  OF  FOUR-TOED  WOODPECKER xiv 

HORNED  GREBES  WITH  NEST  (In  Colors) 8 

CALIFORNIA  GULLS  GATHERING  INSECTS  (In  Colors) . .  20 

CALIFORNIA  GULLS 24 

OLD  AND  YOUNG  RING-BILLED  GULLS 24 

YOUNG  TERNS   32 

YOUNG  DOUBLE-CRESTED  CORMORANTS 32 

NESTS  OF  DOUBLE-CRESTED  CORMORANTS 33 

FULLY  WEBBED  FOOT  OF  ONE  OF  THE  STAGANOPODES.  44 

MALE  AND  FEMALE  MALLARD 48 

MALLARD  DRAKE 48 

CANADA  GOOSE 48 

THE  TRUMPETER  SWAN  (In  Colors) 68 

THE  GREEN  HERON  (In  Colors) 80 

PAIR  OF  SANDHILL  CRANES  AT  HOME  (In  Colors) . .  84 

NEST  AND  YOUNG  AMERICAN  COOT 96 

YOUNG  KILLDEER 96 

KlLLDEER  AND  NEST 97 

FOOT  OF  COOT 97 

MALE  BOBWHITE 108 

BOBWHITE'S  NEST 108 

YOUNG  MOURNING  DOVES 108 

PRAIRIE  CHICKENS  (In  Colors) 116 

TURKEY  BUZZARD 128 

ix 


x  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

SPAEEOW  HAWK  EATING  MOUSE 128 

YOUNG  GEEAT  HOENBD  OWL 129 

THE  SPAEEOW  HAWK  (In  Colors) 140 

FOOT  OF  TYPICAL  HAWK 156 

NIGHTHAWK   176 

NIGHTHAWK'S  NEST  IN  PASTURE 176 

TAIL  AND  FOOT  OF  SWIFT 198 

THE  BALTIMORE  OEIOLE  (In  Colors) 240 

NEST  OF  CAEDINAL 256 

PAIB  OF  INDIGO  BUNTINGS  (In  Colors) 260 

THE  MIGEANT  SHEIKE  (In  Colors) 280 

YELLOW-BEEASTED  CHATS  (In  Colors) 292 

HEAD  OF  CARDINAL  .                                                .  340 


PREFACE 

WHEN  my  father  and  his  Southern  bride  came  back 
from  the  Ozark  country  to  his  boyhood  home  in 
Southeastern  Iowa  and  purchased  a  claim,  their  first 
thought  was  not  of  the  crops  their  land  could  be  forced  to 
produce  and  the  money  they  might  make.  When  a  site 
was  selected  for  the  new  house  it  was  located  on  the 
southern  edge  of  a  woodlot,  ten  acres  of  which  were  set 
aside  as  a  playground.  Possibly  it  would  be  more  accurate 
to  say  that  this  woodlot  was  selected  as  a  playground,  and 
the  house  was  located  so  as  to  be  convenient.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  because  of  their  natural  taste  and  pioneer  training, 
great  importance  was  attached  to  this  plot,  selected  because 
of  its  location  as  well  as  the  large  variety  of  trees  and 
plants  that  grew  on  it.  Specimens  of  every  additional  wild 
plant  and  flower  they  could  obtain  were  transplanted  to 
this  grove.  It  was  fenced  and  the  underbrush  retained, 
except  that  here  and  there  a  specimen  clump  was  removed, 
while  only  such  stock  as  would  do  no  harm  were  allowed  to 
pasture  there.  Even  those  were  kept  out  most  of  the  year. 
Like  most  pioneers,  father  was  a  great  hunter,  but  in 
this  grove  nothing  was  ever  allowed  to  be  disturbed  by  the 
crack  of  a  gun.  There  we  children  went  to  find  the  first 
bloodroot  or  anemone  in  the  spring,  and  there  we  gathered 
the  last  black  haws  and  wild  grapes  in  the  fall.  Nowhere 
else  were  the  wild  gooseberries  so  large,  the  crabapples  so 
yellow  and  fragrant,  or  the  plums  so  red.  Much  of  every 
Sabbath,  when  it  was  not  raining,  and  every  spare  hou£ 

xi 


xii  PREFACE 

of  the  week  between,  we  children  spent  in  this  grove.  Best 
of  all,  father  and  mother  were  as  anxious  to  go  to  "the 
grove"  as  any  of  us;  and  when  they  did  go,  we  children 
were  always  delighted,  for  there  was  sure  to  be  a  story,  a 
bit  of  information,  or  a  reminiscence  connected  with  a 
tree  or  a  flower. 

With,  a  stream  of  living  water  running  through  it,  and 
the  orchard,  corn  pens,  barn,  and  cattle  sheds  on  its  border, 
it  is  small  wonder  that  this  grove  became  the  haven  for 
birds  of  every  description,  and  many  of  them  became  so 
tame  that  they  did  not  resent  my  assisting  in  their  house- 
hold affairs  by  furnishing  prepared  nesting  material  and 
by  giving  the  babies  an  occasional  treat  of  worms  and  bugs, 
It  was  here  I  learned  to  know  and  love  the  birds;  and  it 
is  the  story  of  some  of  these  birds  with  a  few  others  I  have 
met  elsewhere  that  I  mean  to  tell  in  this  book.  I  have 
traveled  far  and  wide,  but  never  have  I  seen  any  other 
place  of  nearly  the  same  size  that  was  inhabited  by  so 
many  kinds  of  birds,  or  where  they  were  so  unconcerned 
when  we  were  around.  This  grove  was  a  haven  for  over 
thirty  years,  and  doubtless  several  generations  of  birds 
taught  their  young  that  there  they  could  find  safety. 

Hawks  and  crows  were  the  only  birds  not  allowed  to 
nest  there,  and  when  they  attempted  to  do  so  they  were 
caught  by  setting  a  steel  trap  in  their  nest,  as  that  would 
not  disturb  their  neighbors.  Lake  other  children,  we 
hunted  birds'  nests,  and  were  always  alert  to  see  what 
our  feathered  friends  were  doing,  but  we  did  not  take  the 
eggs.  Even  to  this  day  I  have  never  made  a  collection  of 
birds'  eggs.  To  mother,  a  bird's  nest  was  a  sort  of  sanctu- 
ary, and  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  far  enough  from 
her  training  to  regard  it  in  any  other  light. 


PREFACE  xiii 

In  selecting  the  birds  as  subjects  of  the  stories  in  this 
book,  an  attempt  has  been  made  not  only  to  choose  one 
or  more  from  each  of  the  important  families-  but  to  select 
as  far  as  possible  those  that  are  widely  known  in  the 
United  States.  If,  in  telling  the  story  of  a  bird,  I  do  not 
mention  the  slightly  different  species  of  the  same  group, 
it  is  in  order  that  the  book  may  not  become  confusing  to 
the  reader.  For  this  collection  of  stories  is  not  intended  to 
be  a  complete  guide  to  the  birds  of  America.  It  is  hoped, 
however,  that  any  boy  or  girl  who  reads  the  book  may 
learn  to  what  order  any  bird  he  or  she  sees  belongs.  To  this 
end  the  keys  are  intended  to  be  complete  enough  to  enable 
him  to  identfy  the  family  of  most  of  the  common  birds. 

The  plan  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  author's  "Knowing 
Insects  Through  Stories,"  and  that  book  has  been  so 
kindly  received  by  the  public  that  it  is  hoped  they  will 
also  like  "Knowing  Birds  Through  Stories." 

I  wish  to  acknowledge  my  indebtedness  to  Dr.  Harry 
C.  Oberholser  for  making  the  keys,  reading  the  manuscript 
and  offering  many  helpful  suggestions;  to  A.  F.  Ganier, 
Frank  G.  Pellett,  T.  E.  Musselman,  H.  S.  Vaughn  and 
A.  H.  Eastgate  for  lending  photographs  to  be  used  for  illus- 
trations ;  and  to  Mr.  E.  E.  Kalmbach  for  able  work  in  draw- 
ing the  colored  illustrations. 


Key  to  the  Orders  of  North  American  Birds 

WITH  3  TOES. 

TUBINARES — Albatrosses. 

With  3  toes  in  front  and  tubular  nostril*. 

PYGOPODES — Auks. 

With   3   toes  in   front,   nostrils  not  tubular,   toes   fully   webbed,   wings 
and  tail  short,  and  legs  placed  far  behind  the  middle  of  body. 

LONGIPENNBS Gulls. 

With   3   toes   in    front,   nostrils  not  tubular,   toes   fully   webbed,   wings 
and  tail  long,  and  legs  placed  near  the  middle  of  body. 

LIMICOLJE — Shore  Birds. 

Like  LONGIPENNES  but  toes  not  fully  webbed. 

PICI — Woodpeckers. 
With  2  toes  in  front  and  one  behind. 


Foot  of  Three-toed  WOODPECM* 

WITH  4  TOES. 

With  2  toes  in  front  and  2  behind. 
PSITTACI — Parrots. 

With   a  strongly   hooked  bill   and   unfeathered  skin    (cere)    on  the  base 
of  the  upper  mandible. 
Pici — Woodpeckers. 

With  bill  not  strongly   hooked  and  without  a  cere  on  the  base  of  the 
upper  mandible;  bill  chisel-like;  tail  stiff  and  its  feathers  pointed. 


Foot  of  Four-toed  WOODMCKB* 
xiv 


KEY  TO  THE  ORDERS  OF  BIRDS  xv 

COCCYGES. 

Bill    not   strongly    hooked    and    without   a   cere,    but   rather    long   and 
somewhat  hooked,  and  tail  feathers  not  stiff  or  pointed. 

With  3  toes  in  front  and  1  behind. 
STEGANOPODES — Pelicans,    Cormorants,    and   their   allies. 
All  4  toes  connected  by  a  web. 

Only  front  toes  fully  webbed. 
TUBINARES — Petrels   and   Shearwaters. 

With  tubular  nostrils. 
ANSERKS — Ducks   and    Geese. 

Nostrils  not  tubular,  and  edges  of  bill  more  or  less  fringed  or  saw-like. 
PYGOFODES — Loons. 

Like    Anseres    but    edges    of    bill    not    fringed,    tail    short,    and    legs 

placed  far  back. 
LONGIPENNES — Gulls  and  Terns. 

Like  Anseres  but  edges  of  bill  not  fringed,  tail  long,  and  legs  placed 

near  the  middle  of  body. 

Front  toes  not  fully  webbed. 
ODONTOGLOSS.E — Flamingoes. 

Bill  bent  abruptly  downward  at  its  middle;  neck  and  legs  long. 
COLUMB-E — Pigeons. 

Bill   not   bent  abruptly   downward   at  its  middle,  the  upper  mandible 

with  a  soft  cere,  bill  slightly  if  at  all  hooked;   legs  short. 
RAPTORES — Hawks   and   Owls. 

Upper  mandible  with  cere  at  base  not  soft,  bill  strongly  hooked. 
PYGOPODES — Grebes. 

Upper    mandible    without    naked    skin    (cere)    at   base;    tail    absent    or 

practically  so;  toes  with  lobes,  or  flaps. 
HERODIONES — Herons. 

Tail    well    developed,    lower   part    of    thighs    naked,    or   bill   long   and 

grooved    on    each    side;    outer    toe    separate    from    the    middle    toe    for 

its  whole  length;   space  around  the  eye  and  between   the  eye  and  the 
bill  not   feathered;    neck  and   legs   long. 
PALUDICOUE — Cranes,    Rails,    an  '    Gallinules. 

Like  Herodiones  but  space  around  the   eye  and  between   the   eye  and 

the  bill  feathered;    hind   toe  on  the  same  level   as  the  front  toes,  or 

else  bird  over  3  feet  long. 
LIMICOUE — Shore   Birds. 

Like   Paludicola   but  hind   toe  short  and   inserted   above  the   level    of 

the  front  toes,  or  else  bird  not  over  3   feet  long. 
GALLINJE — Gallinaceous  Birds. 

Lower  portion  of  thighs  feathered,  or  else  the  outer  toe  united  to  the 

middle  toe  for  half  its  length;  bill,  if  long,  not  grooved  on  the  side; 

the  hind  toe  elevated,  or  else  the  longest  wing  quill  not  twice  as  long 

as  the  secondaries. 

CorCYGES CuckoOS. 

Hind  toe  inserted   on   the  same  level  as  the   front  toes,   and  the  outer 
toe  united  to  the  middle  toe  for  half  its  length. 
MACROCHIRES — Goatsuckers,    Swifts,   and   Hummingbirds. 

The  outer  toe  not  united  to  the  middle  toe  for  half  its  length;  tail 
feathers,   10. 
PASSERES — Perching  Birds. 

Similar   to  Macrochires  but  with   12   tail   feathers. 


THE  LESSON  A  GOOSE  STARTED 

I  WELL  remember  the  first  time  I  learned  that  any 
two  kinds  of  birds  were  more  alike  than  any  other 
two.  It  was  a  raw  day  early  in  March  and  my  rheuma- 
tism did  not  allow  me  to  be  out  of  doors.  Naturally  this 
was  a  trial  to  me.  It  was  raining  in  a  desultory  sort  of 
way  and  there  were  great  pools  of  water  wherever  there 
was  not  ice  and  slush.  I  was  very  impatient  over  the  situa- 
tion and  was  begging  mother  to  let  me  go  out  of  doors. 
Finally,  her  work  done  for  the  time,  she  came  over  and 
sat  down  by  me  and  began  to  talk  about  the  geese  that 
were  playing  out  in  the  water.  I  remember  I  asked  why 
it  was  that  they  were  having  such  a  fine  time  while  the 
chickens  were  standing  around,  as  much  disgruntled  and 
disappointed  with  the  weather  as  I.  I  could  not  see  why 
the  geese  should  be  swimming  and  having  just  the  best 
time  possible  while  the  chickens  were  humped  up  under 
the  old  hay  shed,  looking  as  if  they  had  lost  their  last 
friend.  I  remember  that  while  I  felt  sorry  for  the  chickens, 
my  sympathies  were  with  the  geese,  and  I  longed  to  get 
out  and  paddle  with  them. 

Presently  an  old  goose  stuck  her  head  under  the  water 
and,  kicking  her  feet  up  in  the  air,  stood  in  this  grotesque 
position  for  some  moments  while  the  water  bubbled  up 
around  her  neck.  Mother  explained  that  the  geese  belong; 

1 


2        KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 


to  thels^tomV?  ii&Jtliai  they  were  feeding  on  plant  roots 
and  stems',  and  whatever  else  they  could  find  under  the 
y€it4r5;Jli^b;ClOd:liad:n;nad€f'a  great  family  of  swimmers 
•wBieh'live  fend  pl&J  in:  the'-  wafer.  She  said  they  were  espe- 
cially fitted  for  this  by  the  fact  that  they  have  a  large 
amount  of  fat  on  their  bodies  under  the  feathers  and  skin, 
and  that  this  keeps  them  from  feeling  the  cold.  This  old 
goose  was  simply  standing  on  her  head  while  she  chewed 
off  some  choice  morsel  of  food  under  the  water.  She  then 
explained  that  the  swimmers  have  not  only  the  ordinary 
feathers  that  all  birds  have  but  also  a  thick  coat  of  down 
next  to  the  skin,  so  that  even  though  the  outside  feathers 
get  wet  this  down  keeps  the  water  from  getting  to  the  skin. 
She  told  me  that  they  also  have  a  great  deal  of  oil  on  their 
feathers  and  that  this  oil  keeps  the  feathers  from  getting 
wet,  as  the  feathers  of  a  chicken  do. 

I  was  interested  at  once  and  began  to  ask  questions 
about  these  swimmers,  and  learned  that  they  all  have 
webbed  feet,  altho  the  web  is  not  the  same  on  all  of 
the  different  kinds.  Moreover,  many  of  them  have  a 
Broad,  flat  bill,  so  that  when  feeding  they  can  gather  up 
a  great  mouthful  of  whatever  they  happen  to  find,  and 
by  sucking  the  water  back  and  forth  through  this  bill  they 
can  wash  clean  whatever  is  eatable  before  swallowing  it. 
I  learned  that  some  of  the  swimmers  have  very  small 
wings  and  spend  nearly  all  of  their  time  in  the  water, 
and  can  fly  only  when  the  wind  is  right.  Still  others  have 
formed  such  a  love  for  the  water  that  they  do  not  pretend 
to  fly,  and  in  consequence  their  wings  have  grown  so  small 
and  weak  that  they  could  not  fly  if  they  tried.  These 
birds  of  course  live  only  on  the  shores  of  some  large  body  of 
water,  but  none  of  them  in  our  country.  The  swimmers 
are  geese,  ducks,  swans,  pelicans,  sea-gulls,  loons,  etc. 


THE  LESSON  A  GOOSE  STARTED  § 

Mother  told  me  that  there  is  another  large  group  of 
birds  called  waders.  Unlike  the  swimmers  they  have  very 
small  or  no  webs  on  their  feet  and  could  not  swim  rapidly 
if  they  desired ;  but  they  have  long  legs  and  wade  along  the 
shores  of  rivers  and  streams  catching  frogs,  minnows,  and 
such  things  as  come  their  way.  Some  have  long  necks  as 
well,  and  so  can  get  their  food  down  deep  in  the  water. 
Some  of  these  waders  also  run  over  the  land  and  use  their 
long  bills  for  picking  up  worms,  insects,  etc.  The  waders 
are  the  cranes,  storks,  snipes,  sandpipers,  herons,  etc. 

Next  I  learned  about  the  birds  of  prey  that  have  strong 
beaks  with  a  hook  on  the  end  for  tearing  flesh.  These 
birds  all  have  powerful  wings,  so  that  they  can  fly  long 
distances  quickly.  If  it  were  not  for  these  powerful  wings 
they  might  not  be  able  to  catch  their  prey.  Most  of  these 
birds,  except  owls,  have  a  sharp  hooked  beak,  and  strong 
claws  called  talons  which  enable  them  to  catch  and  hold 
their  prey.  Some  of  these  birds  live  on  dead  animals, 
but  even  they  have  the  hooked  beak  and  the  talons  in 
order  to  tear  their  food  into  pieces.  It  is  easy  to  recog- 
nize this  group  of  birds  by  their  beaks  and  talons.  They 
are  the  hawks,  vultures,  and  eagles. 

"Did  you  ever  notice,"  she  said,  "that  on  every  bright, 
clear  day  the  old  hens  get  out  and  scratch  in  the  dirt  for 
their  food  and  how  they  like  to  wallow  in  dust  and  ashes  ?" 
There  is  a  great  group  of  birds  that  have  strong  feet  and 
legs  with  stout  nails  for  doing  just  this  sort  of  thing,  and 
they  are  known  as  the  scratchers.  In  this  group  come 
the  quails,  pheasants,  turkeys,  guineas,  chickens,  etc.  They 
have  plump  heavy  bodies  and  comparatively  short  stubby 
wings;  and  while  they  fly  very  rapidly  they  fly  only  short 
distances  before  alighting. 

By  this  time  I  was  so  interested  that  I  could  be  per- 


4        KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

fectly  happy  sitting  at  the  window,  watching  the  birds, 
and  trying  to  decide  in  my  own  mind  which  of  the  ones 
I  saw  belonged  to  these  different  groups.  Mother  promised 
that  some  other  time  she  would  tell  me  about  the  other 
great  tribes  of  birds;  but  those  groups  contain  so  many 
birds  and  are  so  easy  to  distinguish  one  from  another  and 
from  the  other  birds  that  this  lesson  has  always  been  of 
great  help  to  me  in  deciding  to  what  family  any  particular 
bird  belongs.  I  give  it  to  you  just  as  she  gave  it  to  me 
without  mentioning  the  other  groups  of  birds  at  this 
time.  You  will  find  it  interesting  and  of  great  help  to 
you  to  turn  to  the  key  in  this  book  and  pick  out  the  differ- 
ent families  of  birds  that  come  under  each  of  these  groups. 
Further  on  in  the  book  you  may  learn  about  the  other 
groups. 


II 

THE  HORNED  GREBE 

I  HAD  a  sister  twelve  or  fourteen  years  older  than  I  who 
was  teaching  school  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  three 
or  four  miles  from  our  place,  and  it  was  my  job  every 
Monday  morning  to  ride  behind  her  on  a  horse  to  her 
boarding  place  and  then  bring  the  horse  back.  One  morn- 
ing in  May,  as  it  had  been  raining  heavily,  my  older 
brothers  decided  to  go  with  us  and  see  whether  the  river 
was  over  its  banks,  in  the  hope  that  they  might  be  able 
to  spear  some  fish.  The  Skunk  River  overflows  its  banks 
practically  every  spring,  and  at  this  time  many  large  fish 
go  out  into  the  shallow  water  that  spreads  over  the  low 
bottoms  and  pass  into  the  shallow  ponds,  for  in  such 
places  they  can  get  an  abundance  of  food.  At  such  times 
father  and  we  boys  used  to  take  the  old  "gig"  and  often 
found  little  trouble  in  spearing  fifty  to  one  hundred  pounds 
of  fish  within  an  hour  or  two. 

On  the  way  home  when  we  reached  Sellar's  pond  we 
noticed  a  duck,  or  at  least  what  we  supposed  was  a  duck,  in 
the  middle  of  the  pond.  We  promptly  dismounted,  tied 
our  horses  to  the  fence  and  ran  over  to  the  pond.  As  he 
went,  Brother  John  filled  his  pockets  with  stones.  Brother 
John  was  expert  at  throwing  stones.  Many  a  time  I  have 
seen  him  kill  squirrels  or  birds  in  this  way,  and  he  hoped 

I 


6        KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

he  might  be  able  to  get  within  throwing  distance  of  this 
duck.  Any  one  who  knows  anything  about  wild  ducks 
knows  that  no  duck  would  remain  on  the  pond  and  allow 
a  boy  to  come  near  enough  to  kill  it  with  a  stone,  but  any 
one  who  knows  anything  about  boys  also  knows  that  boy 
would  nevertheless  make  the  attempt. 

This  bird  remained  about  the  middle  of  the  pond  and 
seemed  to  pay  very  little  attention  to  us.  The  pond  was 
not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  wide  at  the  widest  place 
so  of  course  it  was  no  trouble  to  get  within  throwing  dis- 
tance. John  began  throwing  stones,  but  the  bird  paid  no 
attention  to  him  whatever  except  that  every  time  a  stone 
came  so  near  that  there  was  danger  of  being  hit  he  would 
dive.  Frequently  the  stone  struck  the  place  where  this 
bird  had  been  sitting  only  an  instant  before,  but  he  was 
never  there  when  the  stone  arrived.  Presently  he  would 
come  up  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet  away  and  was  again  ready 
to  play  his  part  in  the  game.  After  we  had  all  thrown  till 
our  arms  were  completely  tired,  we  decided  to  wade  after 
this  bird.  My  brother  had  decided  by  this  time  what  the 
bird  was,  and  said  it  was  a  "didipper." 

Presently  one  of  the  neighbors  came  by  and  joined  in  the 
chase.  We  carried  clubs  and  rocks  and  were  determined 
that  we  would  keep  this  bird  under  the  water  until  he  was 
so  exhausted  for  breath  that  we  would  be  able  to  catch  him. 
For  fully  two  hours  we  chased  hither  and  thither,  back 
and  forth  across  the  pond.  Whenever  the  bird  appeared 
we  tried  to  surround  him  so  that  he  could  not  dive  past 
us.  Then  we  would  throw  clubs  and  rocks,  but  even  tho 
we  were  not  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  away  no  one 
could  throw  quickly  enough  to  hit  this  wonderful  diver. 

Once  he  dived  straight  into  my  legs,  but  before  I  could 


THE  HORNED  GREBE  7 

make  a  move  he  was  gone,  and  two  or  three  times  the 
other  boys  had  the  same  experience.  It  was  a  most  ex- 
citing chase,  and  of  course  we  felt  sure  that  if  we  per- 
sisted long  enough  we  would  be  able  to  catch  the  poor 
bird.  Finally  the  bird  became  too  wary  to  come  up  and 
swim  on  the  surface.  Instead  he  would  merely  stick  his 
bill  out  of  the  water  so  that  he  could  breathe  and  there  he 
would  remain  until  some  one  spied  him  and  threw  at  the 
beak.  Finally  we  no  longer  attempted  to  throw,  but  en- 
deavored to  find  his  bill  sticking  out  of  the  water  and  slip 
up  to  it  quietly  in  the  vain  hope  that  the  bird  could  not 
see  with  his  eyes  under  water.  It  was  very  interesting 
to  see  how  wary  this  bird  finally  became.  He  would 
stick  his  bill  out  of  the  water  for  a  few  moments  and  then 
without  making  the  least  ripple,  would  quietly  sink  be- 
neath the  surface  and  dive  away  to  another  place  perhaps 
fifty  or  a  hundred  feet  away,  when  just  as  noiselessly  he 
would  poke  his  beak  above  the  water  again.  Altho  we 
started  the  chase  before  nine  o'clock,  it  was  nearly  noon  be- 
fore we  finally  gave  up  and  started  for  home.  We  left  be- 
cause we  could  not  find  our  bird  any  longer.  I  thought  he 
had  been  under  water  till  he  had  drowned,  but  when  we 
were  on  our  horses  ready  to  start  we  looked  back  and 
there  was  our  bird  swimming  about  as  tho  nothing  had 
happened. 

When  we  reached  home  we  had  much  to  tell  father  and 
mother  and  were  eager  to  know  more  of  this  bird.  Father 
said  that  when  a  man  attempts  to  shoot  one  of  these  birds, 
they  often  hit  the  place  where  it  had  been,  but  the  bird  sees 
the  flash  and  manages  to  get  under  the  water  before  the 
shot  reaches  him  and  for  this  reason  they  are  the  hardest 
of  all  swimmers  to  shoot.  Of  course  this  is  not  true  with 


8        KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

our  modern  guns  which  have  no  cap  to  flash.  These  birds 
do  not  even  try  to  fly  when  hunted.  In  fact  it  is  commonly 
believed  that  they  can  not  fly.  Some  of  the  old  hunters 
claim  that  they  travel  only  by  swimming  or  by  waddling 
across  country  from  pond  to  pond  or  from  stream  to 
stream.  Father  said  he  knew  better  than  this  because,  in 
the  early  days  of  the  country  when  they  were  much  more 
abundant,  he  had  seen  them  fly  and  was  aware  that  they 
are  very  rapid  flyers.  They  migrate  the  same  as  other 
birds  do,  and  it  is  preposterous  to  suppose  that  a  bird 
would  travel  hundreds  of  miles  <every  year  by  swimming. 
He  said  that  he  had  seen  them  rise  into  the  air  and  fly 
away,  starting  from  some  bank  or  high  place,  and  that 
they  always  started  to  fly  directly  into  the  teeth  of  the 
wind.  He  believed  that  on  still  days  they  can  not  rise. 
These  birds  are  rather  common  throughout  the  Mississippi 
valley,  often  spending  the  winter  where  there  is  open 
water  on  the  ponds  or  along  the  shores  of  the  rivers. 

In  general  appearance  they  look  much  like  small  ducks. 
I  remember  shooting  one  on  the  old  crabapple  pond  one 
June.  It  was  a  beautiful  bird,  but  I  was  surprized  at 
its  small  size.  These  birds  build  their  nests  on  floating 
vegetation  found  at  the  edge  of  a  pond  or  along  the 
shore  of  a  stream  and  lead  the  little  ones  into  the  water 
when  they  are  only  a  few  hours  old.  They  are  perfectly 
harmless,  feeding  on  snails,  crawfish,  etc.,  with  grass  and 
such  other  food  as  they  can  pick  up  about  the  ponds  to  sup- 
plement their  menu.  They  are  our  most  common  represen- 
tative of  those  birds  whose  wings  are  too  small  for  ordi- 
nary flight,  and  so  have  adapte'd  themselves  to  swimming 
and  diving. 

The  old  settlers  claimed  they  could  dive  rapidly  enough 


HORNED   GREBES  WITH  NEST 


THE  HORNED  GREBE  9 

to  catch  fish  under  water.  Whether  this  is  true  or  not  I 
do  not  know,  but  no  bird  with  which  I  am  acquainted  is 
more  expert  at  diving.  They  are  usually  found  either 
solitary  or  in  pairs;  altho  in  my  childhood  it  was  not 
unusual  to  find  flocks  of  a  dozen  or  more.  Now  they  are 
rare. 

Some  months  ago  my  old  father  found  one  of  these 
birds  waddling  about  among  the  "buckbrush"  on  our 
school  farm  very  near  my  house.  Evidently  it  was  mi- 
grating and  for  some  reason  or  other  had  been  forced  to 
the  ground.  Here  it  was  all  but  helpless,  and  father  had 
no  trouble  in  catching  it.  The  poor  creature  had  evidently 
been  wandering  about  for  hours,  trying  to  reach  water; 
but  it  was  found  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
Cumberland  river,  its  nearest  safety.  Any  bird  or  beast 
of  prey  passing  that  way  would  have  found  an  easy  break- 
fast. We  kept  it  for  a  few  hours,  let  the  children  see  it, 
and  then  carried  it  off  to  the  river.  We  attempted  to  feed 
it,  but  it  refused  all  food  and  was  perfectly  delighted  when 
it  finally  got  its  feet  in  the  water.  The  first  thing  it  did 
was  to  dive  as  far  out  from  the  shore  as  it  could  go, 
evidently  still  fearing  that  our  intentions  were  to  do  it  in- 
jury in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  had  been  its  rescuers. 

I  have  not  told  you  that  these  birds  were  grebes. 
Grebes  are  queer  looking  birds.  Their  legs  are  set  so 
far  back  that  they  walk  almost  straight  up,  as  they  have 
no  tail.  Few  birds  find  it  harder  to  walk,  which  probably 
accounts  for  this  one's  habit  of  nesting  on  a  raft. 

We  have  several  kinds  of  grebes,  but  the  horned  variety 
is  one  of  the  most  abundant  species.  It  is  called  "horned" 
because  in  mating  time  the  male  develops  brilliantly  col- 
ored "horns"  that  are  very  conspicuous.  Now  they  mostly 


10      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

nest  north  of  the  United  States,  tho  formerly  they 
nested  as  far  south  as  Iowa.  They  visit  us  every  fall  and 
spring  when  migrating.  The  mother  frequently  carries 
her  young  on  her  back  during  the  first  few  days  of  their 
life.  She  swims  in  and  out  among  the  rushes,  catching 
tadpoles  and  small  water  bugs  which  she  feeds  to  her 
young  by  jerking  her  head  back  over  her  shoulder  so  skill- 
fully that  she  does  not  shake  them  from  their  perch.  The 
male  does  not  seem  to  take  part  in  this  feeding,  tho  he  al- 
ways remains  near  and  seems  very  solicitous  for  his  fam- 
ily's safety. 

The  young  can  swim  as  soon  as  they  hatch,  but  some 
claim  they  must  be  taught  to  dive,  and  that  the  old  bird 
teaches  them  to  do  this,  when  she  thinks  they  are  old 
enough,  by  the  simple  device  of  throwing  them  into  the 
air  by  a  quick  flit  of  her  wings.  This  is  done  in  such  a 
way  as  to  throw  them  under  the  water  head  first,  so  there 
is  nothing  for  them  to  do  but  to  learn  to  dive.  Whether 
this  be  true  or  not,  they  soon  become  as  expert  divers  as 
their  parents. 


Ill 

THE  GREAT  DIVER 

ONE  bright  day  early  in  June  the  great  diver,  with  a 
kick  and  a  sprawl,  rolled  out  of  his  eggshell  prison 
and  rested  for  a  time,  and  when  his  mother  finally  left 
the  nest,  opened  his  eyes,  blinked  painfully  at  the  light, 
and  as  he  gradually  became  accustomed  to  it  began  to  no- 
tice his  surroundings.  He  found  himself  lying  in  a  nest- 
like  depression  on  a  heap  of  decaying  moss  and  rushes  in 
the  shallow  water,  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  from  the  shore 
of  a  beautiful  lake  in  Northern  Maine.  Of  course  he  was 
not  aware  of  this  latter  fact. 

Tall  green  rushes,  interspersed  with  the  broken,  brown, 
and  blackened  growth  of  the  previous  year,  stood  like  a  for- 
est on  all  sides,  but  his  nest  heap  was  sufficiently  elevated 
to  allow  him  to  look  out  over  the  expanse  of  the  lake.  He 
was  more  fortunately  situated  than  many  of  his  fellows 
who  first  see  the  light  of  day  on  the  shores  of  our  northern 
lakes,  in  that  his  parents  had  elected  to  build  their  home 
in  the  water.  They  had  piled  up  two  or  three  bushels  of 
rushes,  moss,  and  other  vegetable  matter  and  anchored  them 
to  the  rushes  in  such  a  way  that  should  the  water  rise  the 
nest  would  float  but  could  not  leave  its  moorings,  but 
should  the  water  recede  would  rest  on  the  muddy  bottom 

11 


12      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

and  still  be  surrounded  with  abundance  of  water.  This, 
soaking  up  through  the  bottom  of  the  heap,  would  cause  it 
to  ferment  and  so  make  the  nest  always  warm  and  snug. 
Many  of  their  fellows  elected  to  build  by  wallowing  a  de- 
pression in  the  earth  near  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  when 
their  young  hatched  they  found  themselves  in  an  appar- 
ently dangerous  position,  for  many  of  the  animals  that 
hunt  the  shores  of  lakes  would  use  them  in  the  form  of  a 
good  meal. 

As  the  great  diver  gazed  over  the  delightful  expanse  of 
water,  at  some  distance  he  saw  a  handsome  bird  almost 
as  large  as  a  goose  but  with  shorter  neck,  gliding  over  the 
surface  of  the  water.  Instinct  told  him  that  this  was  his 
mother.  This  bird  had  a  black  head  and  neck,  while  her 
black  back  and  wings  were  heavily  and  irregularly  spotted 
with  white.  Her  belly  and  breast  were  whitish,  tho  he 
could  not  see  much  of  this,  for  she  swam  so  low  that  only 
the  top  of  her  back  showed  above  the  water. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  lake  a  similar  bird  was  diving 
and  playing  in  the  water.  This  was  his  father  who,  choos- 
ing to  leave  the  feeding  grounds  near  the  nest  to  his  busy 
wife,  did  his  own  fishing  farther  away.  Suddenly  the 
mother  disappeared  under  the  surface  of  the  lake  and 
presently  arose  with  a  fish  in  her  mouth.  Carrying  this 
to  the  edge  of  the  nest  she  proceeded  to  tear  off  strips 
of  flesh  and  after  thoroughly  macerating  these  she 
placed  them  in  the  diver's  mouth  and  he  ate  them 
greedily. 

When  his  appetite  was  satisfied,  his  mother  cleaned  out 
the  remaining  pieces  of  egg  shell  from  the  nest,  put  her 
house  in  order  and  clambered  on  the  nest  to  brood  her  off- 


THE  GREAT  DIVER  13 

spring  and  perchance  hatch  the  other  great  brown  egg  that 
still  remained  in  the  nest.  This  egg  was  almost  as  large 
as  a  goose's  egg,  rather  long  in  shape,  and  somewhat 
pointed  at  one  end.  It  was  chocolate  brown,  more  or  less 
marked  and  splashed  with  a  deeper  color.  Only  two  had 
been  laid  in  this  nest,  altho  the  common  loon  occasionally 
lays  three  eggs. 

Presently,  from  the  far  end  of  the  lake  came  a  long 
laughing  idiotic  call,  very  much  like  the  hysterical  laugh 
of  a  lunatic,  weird,  wild,  but  not  unmusical.  The  weather 
was  warm,  and  recognizing  this  as  the  call  of  her  mate, 
the  mother  slid  into  the  water  and  swam  rapidly  down  the 
lake  to  join  him.  With  her  wings  tightly  folded  on  her 
back  she  swam  with  long,  alternating  sweeps  of  her  great 
webbed  feet,  making  a  speed  that  is  possible  to  only  a  few 
of  the  swimming  birds.  Before  she  reached  her  lord,  she 
noticed  a  young  shiny  trout  in  the  clear  water  below  and, 
diving,  set  chase.  The  startled  trout,  recognizing  his 
danger,  darted  away  with  the  utmost  speed,  but  the  great 
bird  gained  rapidly  in  spite  of  his  exertions.  Presently 
she  caught  him  some  six  or  eight  feet  under  water  and 
crunching  his  body  two  or  three  times  gave  him  a  quick 
twirl  and  catching  him  by  the  head  swallowed  him  before 
she  reached  the  surface. 

Joining  her  lord  they  played  about  over  the  surface  of 
the  lake  for  some  time,  then,  mindful  of  her  baby,  she 
returned  to  her  brooding.  Things  ran  along  in  this  way 
for  two  or  three  days,  when  the  great  diver  became  im- 
patient to  get  into  the  water;  the  mother  loon,  finding 
that  the  remaining  eggs  did  not  hatch,  permitted  him 
to  do  this.  That  night  the  little  family  rested  together  on 


14       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  water  near  the  edge  of  the  lake.  With  the  first  gleam 
of  dawn  they  were  awake  and  their  weird  cries  were  echo- 
ing far  and  near.  Soon  the  father  bird  raised  himself 
straight  up  in  the  water  facing  the  rising  sun  and  began 
flapping  his  wings.  Immediately  his  wife  joined  in  his 
weird  morning  dance  and  the  great  diver,  seeing  his  par- 
ents go  through  this  ceremony,  imitated  them  as  best  he 
could. 

This  was  the  regular  morning  ceremony  with  which 
they  greeted  the  rising  sun,  and  is  an  interesting  charac- 
teristic of  the  loon.  This  ceremony  over,  the  father  de- 
parted to  his  feeding  ground  at  the  far  end  of  the  lake  and 
the  mother  led  the  great  diver  to  the  shallow  water  near 
the  nest. 

One  day  soon  after  the  diver  had  left  the  nest  a  man 
chanced  to  see  him  and  his  mother  as  they  floated  on  the 
bosom  of  the  lake.  They  were  near  the  nest  and  the 
man  pushed  his  canoe  into  the  water  so  as  to  cut  them  off 
from  the  body  of  the  lake.  When  the  mother  saw  the  man 
in  his  boat  she  gave  a  peculiar  cry  which  the  diver  under- 
stood to  be  a  danger  cry.  He  promptly  disappeared  be- 
neath the  water  and  dived  through  the  rushes  away  from 
the  boat.  His  mother  almost  immediately  dived  and 
coming  up  a  few  yards  on  the  other  side  of  the  boat, 
flapped  the  water  with  her  wings  and  feet  as  loudly  as 
possible  to  attract  the  man's  attention.  But  the  man  knew 
something  of  birds  and  was  not  to  be  deceived  by  the 
mother;  so  keeping  a  keen  eye  on  the  water  among  the 
rushes  he  saw  the  baby  loon  rise  to  the  surface,  where  he 
remained  perfectly  still.  With  two  or  three  strokes  of  the 
paddle  the  boat  glided  toward  the  spot  where  he  was  hid- 
den. The  mother  again  uttered  her  warning  cry  and  the 


THE  GREAT  DIVER  15 

great  diver  boldly  dived  out  into  the  lake  toward  his  mother. 
Again  she  dived  and  coming  up  very  near  the  boat  made  a 
great  splattering  of  the  water  to  attract  attention  to  her- 
self. 

Back  and  forth  the  chase  continued  for  some  time,  when 
the  great  diver  growing  more  wary  dived  into  some  brush 
that  overhung  the  bank  and  rising  just  high  enough  to 
allow  his  nostrils  to  stick  out  of  the  water  remained  per- 
fectly hidden. 

The  man  was  outwitted  at  last.  He  knew  the  bird  was 
somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  doing  this  very  thing,  but 
could  not  locate  him;  so  he  gave  up  the  chase  and  rowed 
down  the  lake.  When  he  had  rounded  the  point  the 
mother  loon  uttered  a  low  call  and  her  son  came  to  meet 
her.  Swimming  to  him  and  letting  her  body  down  until 
only  her  head  stuck  out  of  the  water  she  received  him  on 
her  back  and  then  rising  to  the  surface  swam  rapidly 
down  the  lake.  She  swam,  dived,  and  even  caught  fish 
with  her  young  on  her  back,  and  so  successfully  was  it 
done  that  he  was  not  dislodged. 

As  the  days  went  by,  the  loon  family  began  to  take  an 
occasional  flight.  Loons  cannot  rise  directly  from  the 
water  as  some  ducks  do,  but  run  for  a  considerable  distance 
over  the  surface,  paddling  with  their  feet,  flapping  their 
wings,  and  making  great  speed.  Finally  they  are  able  to 
rise  into  the  air.  These  three  birds  would  race  across  the 
water  as  rapidly  as  possible,  but  when  the  parent  birds 
rose  the  great  diver  was  not  able  to  follow.  Disconsolate  he 
watched  them  fly  away  and  when  after  a  time  they  re- 
turned and  plunged  into  the  lake  with  terrific  force  he  was 
overjoyed.  Loons  have  very  heavy  bodies  and  compara- 
tively short  wings  and  so  find  it  hard  to  rise  from  the 


16      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

water,  but  when  they  succeed  in  taking  flight  they  fly  with 
great  rapidity.  They  are  not  able  to  check  their  speed 
much  and  still  remain  in  the  air.  When  ready  to  alight, 
they  circle  over  the  water  getting  lower  each  time  until 
finally  they  often  plunge  in  with  almost  the  velocity  of  an 
express  train,  making  a  tremendous  noise  and  half  run, 
half  swim,  for  a  considerable  distance  before  they  are  able 
to  stop. 

Within  another  week  the  great  diver  was  able  to  take 
to  the  air  himself,  and  then  he  accompanied  his  parents 
on  their  daily  excursions.  In  the  meantime  he  had  learned 
to  be  almost  as  expert  in  diving  and  fishing  as  his  par- 
ents. 

One  day  he  accompanied  them  on  a  prolonged  trip  to  the 
sea  shore.  While  he  was  fishing  his  parents  disappeared, 
he  knew  not  where.  At  first  he  was  lonely,  but  he  soon 
discovered  many  young  birds  like  himself  fishing  in  the 
same  region  and  made  friends  with  them.  These  birds 
soon  learned  to  wander  far  out  at  sea,  sometimes  gathering 
in  large  flocks  at  night  to  sleep  on  the  surface  of  the 
ocean.  However,  they  preferred  to  sleep  on  the  shore. 

As  the  weather  grew  colder,  one  after  another  departed 
for  the  Southland,  and  one  day  the  great  diver  went  also. 
After  spending  the  winter  fishing  in  the  lakes  and  on  the 
coast  of  Florida  he  selected  a  mate  with  whom  he  flew  to 
the  Northland,  and  seeking  out  a  lake  that  was  not  already 
occupied  by  loons  set  up  housekeeping  for  himself. 

There  are  several  kinds  of  loons,  all  of  which  are  much 
alike  in  their  habits.  They  breed  from  the  northern  part 
of  the  United  States  to  Alaska.  They  love  solitude,  so  sel- 
dom more  than  one  pair  nest  in  a  lake  unless  it  be  a  large 
one.  They  seem  not  to  breed  as  far  South  as  they  did  in 


THE  GREAT  DIVER  17 

my  boyhood  days,  but  are  often  seen  migrating  over  much 
of  the  country,  and  are  to  be  seen  at  some  time  of  the  year 
on  most  of  the  larger  streams  of  the  United  States. 

Aside  from  the  common  loon  we  have  the  yellow-billed 
loon,  the  Pacific  loon,  and  the  red-throated  loon.  They  are 
such  skilled  divers  that  it  takes  a  very  good  marksman 
indeed  to  shoot  one,  though  they  practically  never  fly  when 
pursued.  Occasionally  loons  stay  in  the  north  too  long,  and 
a  sudden  cold  spell  freezes  so  much  ice  on  the  borders  of 
their  lake  that  they  have  no  room  to  run  on  the  water  far 
enough  to  take  flight  so  they  must  stay  where  they  are. 
Finally  the  lake  freezes  over  and  they  starve  to  death. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Pygopodes 

COLYMBIDJE — Grebes. 

Without  a  tail  and  with  lobed  feet. 
ALCID^E — Guillemots,   Auks,   and   M*arres. 

With  a  tail  and  with  webbed  feet,  but  with  no  hind  toe. 
GAVIID-E — Loons. 

With  a  tail,  webbed  feet,  and  with  a  hind  toe. 


iv; 

THE  CALIFORNIA  GULL 

IN*  the  fall  of  1897  I  went  to  Provo  City,  Utah,  and  spent 
something  like  two  years  in  teaching.  Having  always 
been  a  lover  of  gardening  and  farming,  the  next  spring  in 
partnership  with  a  friend  I  rented  a  piece  of  land  not  far 
from  the  city  for  gardening,  since  I  could  do  this  without 
interfering  with  my  teaching,  especially  as  the  heavy  part 
of  the  gardening  work  would  come  during  the  summer  va- 
cation. Along  in  April  I  hired  a  team  and  went  to  plow 
this  land.  About  ten  o'clock  the  first  forenoon  I  was  sur- 
prized to  see  a  large  flock  of  white  birds  approaching.  In 
a  moment  they  were  alighting  on  all  sides,  squealing,  run- 
ning over  the  plowed  ground,  and  having  a  good  time  in 
general.  As  long  as  I  plowed  in  this  field  these  birds  re- 
mained. At  times  a  few  would  fly  away,  but  others  were 
always  coming  to  take  their  places.  Before  long  there  were 
two  or  three  hundred  of  these  birds  in  the  field,  fussing  and 
quarreling  over  every  bug  and  worm  my  plow  turned  up. 
They  were  so  anxious  to  get  these  worms  that  they  would 
fly  ahead  of  the  plow  and  sit  as  close  as  they  possibly 
could  until  I  passed  them.  Sometimes  when  a  worm 
showed  in  the  furrow  I  have  had  a  gull  jump  in  just  ahead 
of  the  turning  soil  and  would  feel  sure  it  would  be  plowed 
under,  but  some  way  it  always  managed  to  get  out  just  in 

18 


THE  CALIFORNIA  GULL  19 

the  nick  of  time.  They  were  in  the  furrow  behind,  on  the 
plowed  ground  ahead,  and  on  all  sides,  hunting  and  peck- 
ing about  constantly,  and  every  one  chirping  or  squealing 
until  the  field  was  noisier  than  a  barnyard  at  feeding  time. 

These  birds  seem  a  little  larger  than  the  ordinary  do- 
mestic duck,  but  not  so  large  as  the  largest  Peking  ducks  I 
have  seen.  Their  bodies  are  much  more  graceful  than  the 
body  of  a  duck  and  they  have  much  longer  wings  and 
shorter  necks ;  altho  the  bill  is  rather  broad  at  the  base,  it 
is  not  flat  like  a  duck's  bill  but  comes  almost  to  a  point  and 
has  a  decided  hook  at  the  end  much  like  the  beak  of  a 
hawk.  They  were  bluish  gray  over  the  back  and  white  on 
the  breast,  the  belly,  and  the  quills  of  the  tails.  I  had 
seen  gulls  before  far  out  on  Lake  Michigan,  tho  they  were 
not  like  these ;  and  I  had  read  enough  to  know  at  once  that 
they  were  sea  gulls  of  some  kind.  I  was  surprized  to  find 
!so  many  sea  gulls  a  thousand  miles  from  the  ocean,  but 
learned  that  they  visit  this  part  of  the  country  regularly 
every  spring  by  the  tens  of  thousands  on  their  way  to  their 
nesting  grounds  farther  north.  Sometimes  a  few  stay  in 
Utah  and  nest  there. 

They  are  considered  a  great  blessing  in  Utah,  because 
they  stay  until  after  most  of  the  grasshoppers  are  hatched 
and  destroy  them  by  the  tens  of  thousands.  The  old  set- 
tlers will  tell  you  how  in  the  early  days  the  grasshoppers, 
really  the  black  crickets,  were  destroying  all  the  crops, 
when  one  April  day  in  1850,  just  as  these  insects  were 
hatching  by  millions,  the  gulls  came  in  flocks,  and  de- 
voured them  and  saved  the  country.  They  will  tell  you 
that  they  eat  grasshoppers  until  they  are  gorged  and  then 
fly  to  the  lake  or  some  stream  and  drink  themselves  full  of 
water  when  they  disgorge  the  grasshoppers  they  have 


20      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

eaten  and  then  go  back  and  eat  more.  I  know  that  they 
eat  grasshoppers  for  awhile  and  then  fly  to  the  water; 
but  there  is  no  reason  for  believing  that  they  lose  their 
grasshoppers  after  drinking.  None  that  I  have  ever  watched 
lost  any.  I  presume  the  idea  is  obtained  from  the  fact 
that  they  eat  so  much  that  people  who  knew  little  of  the 
birds  thought  it  impossible  that  they  digested  all. 

As  the  season  advances  most  varieties  of  sea  gulls  fly  to 
Northern  United  States  and  northward,  where  they  nest 
on  barren  islands.  Those  who  have  seen  their  nesting 
places  say  that  they  have  often  found  thousands  of  nests  on 
a  space  of  only  an  acre  or  two.  It  is  when  these  birds  are 
going  to  their  nesting  grounds  that  we  sometimes  see  them 
flying  over  the  central  States.  I  have  frequently  seen  them 
in  Iowa  and  Nebraska,  but  have  never  known  them  to  stay 
any  length  of  time.  In  fact,  they  seldom  alight  in  those 
States  except  where  there  are  lakes.  Some  species  nest 
on  the  coast  of  Washington  and  Oregon,  some  on  our  At- 
lantic coast,  while  a  few  nest  inland. 

But  I  had  never  had  an  opportunity  to  know  much  about 
sea  gulls  at  home  until  my  first  visit  to  Seattle,  Washing- 
ton. There  they  are  to  be  found  by  thousands,  especial- 
ly from  early  autumn  until  late  spring.  When  they  were 
coming  in  from  their  breeding  grounds  in  the  autumn  I 
have  seen  them  arrive  by  thousands  every  day.  Each 
morning  it  was  plain  that  there  were  many  more  than  the 
day  before,  and  for  an  hour  or  two  before  dark  they  ar- 
rived in  a  seemingly  endless  stream.  There  are  many  va- 
rieties of  sea  gulls,  but  the  habits  of  all  are  much  the 
same  and  for  the  purpose  of  this  story  it  is  not  necessary 
to  tell  the  differences.  We  have  twenty-two  species  in  the 
United  States.  Those  of  you  who  live  where  sea  gulls 


tr  I  if  if  til 


CALIFORNIA    GULLS    GATHERING    INSECTS 


THE  CALIFORNIA  GULt  21 

are  plentiful  and  wish  to  know  how  to  recognize  the  differ- 
ent kinds  can  obtain  a  government  bulletin  on  gulls  that 
will  enable  you  to  identify  at  least  the  most  common  ones. 
The  greater  part  of  the  readers  of  this  book  are  located 
where  sea  gulls  are  not  common  and  for  this  reason  they 
will  not  be  interested  in  knowing  much  about  the  differ- 
ent kinds. 

The  gulls  are  great  lovers  of  the  water,  and  are  known  as 
sea  gulls  because  they  frequent  the  shores  of  the  ocean 
everywhere.  Of  course  we  find  them  on  practically  all  of 
the  large  fresh  water  lakes.  A  few  years  ago  my  friend 
Captain  Graham,  who  has  been  a  salmon  fisher  most  of 
his  life  either  on  Puget  Sound  or  on  Columbia  River, 
invited  me  to  go  with  him  to  lift  his  salmon  nets.  Early 
the  next  morning  we  got  into  his  gasoline  launch  and 
started  down  the  sound  to  the  nets.  We  did  not  notice  an 
unusual  number  of  gulls  on  the  way  and  even  when  we 
reached  the  nets  and  the  men  began  raising  them  I  did  not 
notice  more  than  an  occasional  specimen  flying  about.  It 
took  something  like  an  hour  to  raise  the  nets  and  get 
ready  to  take  out  the  fish.  I  noticed  that  as  the  work  pro- 
gressed gulls  in  ever-increasing  numbers  flew  about,  ap- 
parently much  interested  in  what  was  going  on;  but  not 
being  well  acquainted  with  their  habits  I  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to  this,  and  the  fishermen  were  so  used  to 
their  presence  that  they  said  nothing.  When  the  scow 
was  pulled  up  along  side  and  the  men  began  taking  the 
fish  out  of  the  net,  the  gulls  came  from  all  directions  by 
hundreds.  The  fisherman's  net  in  modern  days  is  very 
much  like  those  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee  of  which  the  Sa- 
vior said,  "The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  net 
that  was  cast  into  the  sea,  and  gathered  of  every  kind, 


22      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

which  when  it  was  full  they  drew  to  shore,  and  sat  down, 
and  gathered  the  good  into  vessels,  but  cast  the  had  away/5 

These  fishermen  had  a  one-pronged  fork  not  so  very 
different  from  the  forks  a  farmer  uses  in  making  hay  ex- 
cept in  the  number  of  prongs.  With  this  they  took  the 
fish  from  the  net,  sticking  the  prong  through  each  fish 
and  lifting  it  out  of  the  net — the  most  convenient  way  to 
handle  them.  The  good  fish  are  thrown  into  the  scow  to 
go  to  the  canning  factory,  while  those  that  are  not  salable 
are  thrown  back  into  the  sea.  Most  of  these  are  fatally 
injured  by  the  fork,  and  some  thousands  of  the  dying  fish 
were  soon  floating  over  the  surface  of  the  sound  in  every 
direction. 

Then  the  gulls  were  happy.  They  came  from  every 
direction  by  scores.  A  bird  would  alight  on  a  fish  and 
begin  tearing  at  it  with  his  hook-like  bill.  If  the  fish  were 
dead,  all  well  and  good ;  the  bird  would  tear  off  piece  after 
piece  of  flesh  and  eat  until  the  fish  became  lighter  on  one 
side,  rolled  over,  and  tumbled  the  bird  into  the  water.  With 
a  scream  he  would  rise  into  the  air  and  again  alight  on 
his  fish,  but  he  was  always  too  interested  in  eating  to 
keep  this  from  happening  again.  Sometimes,  however, 
a  bird  alighted  on  a  fish  that  was  not  dead,  and  when  he 
began  tearing  its  flesh  of  course  the  poor  fish  would  flop 
and  attempt  to  swim  away.  It  was  amusing  to  see  the 
surprize  and  apparent  fear  of  the  gull  when  a  fish  made 
a  great  stroke  with  its  tail  and  perhaps  dodged  the  gull. 
With  screams  of  protest  he  would  hover  about,  pecking 
and  tearing  at  the  fish,  but  usually  ended  by  trying  another 
victim.  It  took  most  of  the  forenoon  to  empty  the 
fish  nets.  Thousands  of  pounds  of  good  fish  were  taken 
out,  but  I  am  quite  sure  there  were  two  pounds  of  worth- 


THE  CALIFORNIA  GULL  23 

less  fish  in  the  net  for  every  pound  of  salable  ones.  Most 
of  the  gulls  had  not  yet  gone  to  their  breeding  grounds 
and  so  there  was  a  royal  feast  for  them  all  day  long.  I 
am  sure  I  never  saw  so  many  gulls  at  one  time  in  my  life 
before  or  since. 

But  fishermen  are  not  lifting  their  nets  every  day  in  the 
year,  and  it  is  only  for  a  short  season  that  these  birds  are 
enabled  to  feast  on  fresh  fish  as  they  did  that  day.  Or- 
dinarily they  follow  ships  back  and  forth  watching  for 
the  cook  to  empty  the  slops  from  the  kitchen  into  the 
water  or  for  some  interested  passenger  to  throw  food  to 
them.  They  eat  almost  any  sort  of  food.  I  have  seen 
them  fight  as  earnestly  over  potato  parings,  bread  crusts, 
and  other  refuse  as  over  fish  thrown  into  the  water.  When 
the  tide  is  going  out  they  often  gather  in  large  numbers 
along  the  shore,  feeding  on  any  small  creatures  that  may  be 
left  stranded.  I  have  never  seen  them  eat  starfish,  but 
they  will  feed  on  sea  cucumbers  and  small  crabs  and  shell 
fish  as  well  as  on  dead  minnows  that  are  washed  ashore. 
Because  of  these  habits  of  feeding,  those  who  have  tried 
to  eat  gulls  tell  me  that  their  flesh  is  so  strong  and  rank 
they  are  not  fit  for  food ;  so  they  are  never  killed  for  that 
purpose.  As  they  are  enormous  eaters  and  are  always 
ready  to  pick  up  anything  that  is  thrown  into  the  sea,  they 
are  valuable  as  scavengers  to  the  people  who  live  along 
the  shore.  In  fact,  anywhere  in  the  United  States  or  Can- 
ada it  is  against  the  law  to  kill  sea  gulls.  I  have  never 
seen  one  shot,  altho  I  have  frequently  seen  the  stuffed 
skins.  They  are  powerful  in  flight,  often  remaining  on 
the  wing  for  hours  at  a  time ;  when  they  tire  they  settle  on 
the  water  to  rest.  They  have  webbed  feet  like  the  rest 
of  the  swimmers  and  are  consequently  able  to  swim  as  well 


24      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

as  any  duck ;  but  their  feeding  habits  are  so  different  that 
they  do  not  swim  nearly  as  much  as  do  most  of  the  swim- 
ming birds. 

You  will  have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  sea  gulls  from 
ducks  and  geese,  but  there  are  some  other  birds  from 
which  it  is  not  so  easy  to  distinguish  them.  These  are  the 
petrels  and  the  albatrosses.  The  albatrosses  are  all  larger 
birds  than  the  gulls.  They  are  usually  found  along  with 
the  gulls  and  feed  in  very  much  the  same  way,  tho 
they  are  much  more  expert  in  catching  food  in  mid-air. 
I  have  stood  on  deck  and  thrown  food  into  the  air  in  full 
sight  of  an  albatross  that  was  at  least  one  hundred-fifty 
feet  away  and  altho  the  food  had  to  fall  only  ten  or 
fifteen  feet  to  the  water  the  albatross  usually  managed  to 
catch  it  in  the  air.  The  gull  is  rather  more  slender  and 
graceful  than  the  albatross,  and  this  coupled  with  the  fact 
that  it  is  not  so  large  makes  it  possible  to  distinguish  it 
while  in  flight.  Most  of  the  petrels  on  the  other  hand 
are  smaller  than  the  gulls,  have  relatively  longer  and  more 
slender  wings,  and  are  more  graceful  and  rapid  in  flight. 
They  do  not  come  ashore  as  aften  as  do  the  gulls  except 
when  nesting,  and  are  usually  seen  at  considerable  dis- 
tance out  at  sea.  From  the  fact  that  they  are  distinctly 
sea-faring  birds  they  are  often  called  Mother  Carey's 
Chickens.  When  the  weather  is  so  stormy  that  the  gulls 
are  forced  ashore,  the  petrels  seem  to  be  in  their  element. 
They  seem  to  delight  to  fly  about  in  wind  that  is  blowing  a 
hurricane  and  will  even  dash  through  the  crest  of  the 
white  caps  in  search  of  a  bit  of  food.  If  it  is  remembered 
that  they  are  smaller  and  that  their  flight  is  more  rapid  and 
that  they  dart  up  and  down  more  than  the  gulls,  one  will 
soon  learn  to  distinguish  them  from  each  other. 


CALIFORNIA  GULLS 


OLD  AND  YOUNG  RING-BILLED  GULLS 


THE  CALIFORNIA  GULL  25 

Few  of  the  readers  of  this  book  will  have  the  privilege 
of  seeing  a  sea  gull's  nest,  for,  as  before  stated,  they  nest 
for  the  most  part  either  in  the  far  North  or  on  the  coasts, 
building  their  nests  directly  on  the  ground,  often  on  a 
small  shelf  no  more  than  a  foot  wide  with  a  steep  or  sheer 
cliff  hundreds  of  feet  above  or  below  or  both.  Of  course 
during  the  nesting  season  they  are  not  common  in  our 
waters  except  where  they  breed,  but  they  fly  all  over  the 
United  States  during  the  rest  of  the  year.  They  do  not 
mind  the  cold  of  winter,  and  one  sees  them  following 
boats  back  and  forth  all  winter  long  in  New  York  or 
Boston  harbors. 


y 

THE  BLACK  TERN 

ONE  of  the  most  wonderful  things  about  God's  crea- 
tion is  the  wonderful  way  each  object  is  fitted  to  the 
conditions  under  which  it  lives  and  for  gathering  the 
food  on  which  it  subsists. 

Among  the  water  birds  we  have  already  learned  that 
there  are  two  great  groups,  one  of  which  has  long  slender 
legs  and  as  a  rule  long  necks  and  long  bills,  just  the 
things  that  make  it  possible  for  them  to  catch  frogs, 
pollywogs,  and  other  creatures  that  live  along  the  shores 
of  lakes  and  rivers  where  they  feed.  The  other  group  of 
water  birds  has  rather  short  legs  with  webbed  feet,  the  web 
acting  as  an  oar  making  it  possible  for  them  to  swim  very 
rapidly.  Those  that  feed  largely  on  vegetable  matter  have 
broad  bills  which  they  use  as  shovels  for  digging  in  the 
bottom  of  shallow  ponds  for  the  tender  roots  and  stems  they 
like  so  much. 

Others,  like  the  gulls  that  live  largely  on  meat,  have 
more  or  less  of  a  hook  on  the  end  of  the  rather  broad  bill 
to  assist  them  in  tearing  fish  and  other  flesh-food  in 
pieces.  Since  it  is  often  necessary  for  these  birds  to 
catch  their  food  among  the  schools  of  small  fish  that 
swim  far  out  in  the  sea,  they  have  powerful  wings  and 
are  therefore  able  to  fly  for  hours  at  a  time.  In  some 


THE  BLACK  TERN  27 

ways  the  terns  interest  me  more  than  any  other  water 
fowl  because  their  provision  for  swimming  seems  almost 
unnecessary.  In  fact,  I  have  never  been  quite  able  to 
understand  why  they  are  water  fowl  at  all.  They  re- 
semble the  gulls  in  shape  and  general  appearance,  but 
are  smaller,  some  varieties  being  scarcely  as  large  as  a 
pigeon.  All  of  them  have  rather  long  sharp  bills,  better 
adapted  for  feeding  on  insects  than  for  eating  fish  or  col- 
lecting tender  roots  and  stems  under  the  water. 

No  bird  is  more  gracefully  beautiful  than  a  tern.  Every 
curve  of  its  body  seems  to  be  especially  shaped  to  give 
grace  and  speed  in  flight,  and  its  wings  are  strong  and 
so  long  that  they  reach  well  beyond  the  end  of  the 
body.  It  is  no  wonder  these  birds  delight  in  nothing 
so  much  as  flying.  No  matter  what  the  weather,  they 
seem  always  to  be  in  the  air,  the  mother  bird  scarcely 
sparing  the  time  necessary  to  brood  her  eggs. 

When  I  was  a  boy  we  had  very  few  terns  about  home. 
In  fact,  in  Southeastern  Iowa  it  is  only  occasionally  that 
terns  of  any  kind  are  seen  and  those  are  mostly  migrating. 
However,  I  used  to  make  occasional  trips  further  north  into 
the  northwestern  part  of  the  State  where  I  found  those 
birds  rather  common,  especially  the  black  terns  whose 
story  I  mean  now  to  tell,  because  undoubtedly  it  is  the 
most  widely  distributed  of  our  American  terns. 

It  was  not  till  I  went  West,  however,  that  I  became 
really  well  acquainted  with  even  the  Mack  tern.  I  shall 
never  forget  my  first  trip  through  .orthwestern  Ne- 
braska and  Eastern  Colorado — not  the  first  time  I  ever 
rode  through  on  a  train,  but  the  first  when  I  had  oppor- 
tunity to  drive  over  some  of  this  country  and  become 
acquainted  with  its  birds  and  flowers.  I  happened  to 


28      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

get  off  at  a  small  station  and  drive  several  miles  into 
the  country,  and  to  my  surprize  our  road  led  us  past  a 
cluster  of  small  lakes,  the  largest  covering  perhaps  one 
hundred  acres.  These  lakes  evidently  were  not  deep, 
for  the  cat-tails,  rushes,  and  other  plants  grew  in  profu- 
sion for  several  rods  along  the  shore.  I  was  surprized  to 
find  these  beautiful  little  lakes  where  I  did  not  know 
there  was  any  water,  and  was  doubly  surprized  at  the 
swarm  of  birds  living  on  their  shores.  Blackbirds,  kill- 
deers,  curlews,  several  kinds  of  ducks,  a  few  gulls,  and 
black  terns  were  there  in  such  numbers  as  I  have  sel- 
dom seen  anywhere.  In  fact,  I  have  often  said  that  on 
the  shores  of  these  lakes  water  fowl  were  as  thick  as  the 
chickens  in  the  barnyard  at  home,  and  many  of  them 
seemed  almost  as  fearless. 

It  was  the  last  of  May  or  the  first  of  June,  I  am  not 
sure  just  which,  and  knowing  that  this  was  the  time 
most  of  these  birds  would  be  nesting  I  could  not  forego 
the  pleasure  of  spending  some  time  looking  for  nests 
and  young  birds.  Here  was  a  mallard  duck  leading 
half  a  dozen  balls  of  fluffy  down  into  the  tall  rushes, 
and  there  was  a  pintail  duck,  equally  bent  on  hiding  her 
youngsters  among  the  cat-tails  on  the  other  side,  while 
nests  of  the  red-winged  blackbird  were  to  be  seen  on  every 
hand.  I  started  to  pick  my  way  along  the  edge  of  one 
of  these  little  lakes  when  suddenly  a  black  tern  began  to 
circle  over  my  head  and  scream  in  the  most  excited 
way.  "A-ha,"  I  thought.  "You  have  a  nest  somewhere 
near.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  be  able  to  find  it."  I  moved 
a  few  feet  further  and  she  became  more  and  more  ex- 
cited every  moment,  circling  closer  and  closer  and  scream- 
ing louder  and  louder.  Somehow  I  missed  her  nest  and 


THE  BLACK  TERN  29 

when  I  passed  on  a  few  rods  she  become  less  excited  and 
less  loud  in  her  protests  of  anger. 

When  I  was  a  boy  we  used  to  play  a  game  called  magic 
music.  A  boy  or  girl  was  sent  from  the  room  and  the 
rest  of  the  party  agreed  on  some  object  which  he  was  to 
find  on  his  return.  When  he  again  entered  the  room 
some  one  began  playing  a  violin,  playing  slowly  and 
softly  when  he  was  no  where  near  the  thing  agreed  upon 
and  faster  and  louder  as  he  approached  the  object  he 
was  to  find.  Guided  by  this  music  alone  he  was  sup- 
posed to  discover  what  the  company  had  decided  upon. 
Now  it  struck  me  that  this  bird  and  I  were  playing  a  game 
of  magic  music.  At  any  rate,  had  it  been  her  greatest 
anxiety  to  help  me  find  her  nest  she  could  not  have  done 
it  better.  I  turned  and  retraced  my  steps,  when  her 
outcry  became  more  constant  and  more  excited  and  again 
she  began  darting  close  to  my  head.  When  I  came  within 
three  or  four  feet  of  her  nest  she  actually  struck  my  hat. 
I  stopped  at  once  and  peering  about  saw  the  nest — a  pile 
of  rushes  and  reeds  apparently  dumped  with  no  par- 
ticular order  in  the  edge  of  the  shallow  water  among 
the  rushes.  She  had  not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  wallow 
a  respectable  depression  in  the  top  of  this  pile,  but  had 
merely  laid  her  three  eggs  together  on  the  top.  I  never 
have  been  able  to  understand  how  she  could  brood  these 
eggs;  first,  because  there  were  so  many  openings  in  the- 
under  side  of  the  nest  that  I  do  not  see  how  she  could 
keep  them  warm,  placed  as  they  were  only  four  or  five 
inches  above  the  water;  second,  I  do  not  see  how  she 
could  hover  and  turn  them,  as  every  bird  must  turn  her 
eggs,  without  their  rolling  apart  if  not  into  the  water. 

Her  eggs  must  be  wonderfully  vital  and  capable  of 


SO      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

hatching  at  a  comparatively  low  temperature,  for  not 
only  is  she  handicapped  by  not  having  a  warm  nest  in 
which  to  brood  them,  but  she  is  so  fond  of  playing  in  the 
balmy  air  that  she  seemingly  finds  little  time  to  sit. 
I  have  never  seen  a  black  tern  sitting  on  her  nest.  Un- 
doubtedly she  does  so,  but  when  or  how  I  am  unable  to 
say.  Audubon,  that  great  authority  on  birds,  tells  U8 
that  both  the  male  and  the  female  sit  and  undoubtedly 
he  knew  what  he  was  talking  about,  but  certainly  neither 
sits  long  enough  to  grow  tired.  "We  are  told  that  it 
takes  seventeen  days  to  hatch  a  black  tern's  egg.  When 
the  eggs  are  hatched  the  young  birds  are  such  a  wonder- 
ful mixture  of  brownish  black  and  other  neutral  colors 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  see  them,  and,  more  than 
that,  by  the  time  they  are  three  days  old  they  do  not 
hesitate  to  slip  into  the  water  and  swim  away  and  hide 
under  the  bank  or  among  the  rushes  whenever  the  nest  is 
even  slightly  disturbed.  Their  parents  feed  them  mostly 
on  water  spiders  and  other  water  loving  insects,  but  do 
not  hesitate  to  add  to  their  bill  of  fare  butterflies,  grass- 
hoppers, dragon-flies,  and  any  other  insects  that  may  come 
handy.  The  parent  birds  seem  to  be  in  the  air  almost 
all  the  time,  flitting  and  circling  about  hither  and  thither 
and  back  and  forth  hunting  food.  As  they  can  catch 
that  swiftest  of  insects,  the  dragon-fly,  in  a  fair  race,  and 
as  they  feed  on  any  of  the  flying  insects,  doubtless  they 
have  little  trouble  in  picking  up  an  abundance  of  food. 
However  they  do  not  hesitate  to  feed  on  grass  and  on 
land-living  insects  when  occasion  demands. 

The  black  tern  raises  only  one  brood  each  summer, 
tho  if  the  first  nest  is  broken  up  it  will  build  another. 
The  young  develop  their  wings  quickly  and  are  soon 


THE  BLACK  TERN  31 

able  to  look  after  themselves  in  the  matter  of  flying 
and  catching  food.  These  birds  are  abundant  over  the 
northern  part  of  the  United  States  and  the  southern  part 
of  Canada  from  Northern  Ohio  to  the  Pacific  coast.  I 
have  seen  them  in  the  breeding  season  in  Michigan  and 
northern  Indiana,  and  they  occasionally  are  found  as  far 
south  as  the  northern  part  of  Missouri,  tho  certainly  this 
is  rare.  With  the  return  of  fall  they  fly  to  the  seashore 
and  unite  with  the  great  flocks  of  gulls  and  other  terna 
that  congregate  there  for  the  winter,  becoming  active  fish- 
ers. I  do  not  think  they  do  much  fishing  during  the 
summertime,  but  in  the  winter  they  are  often  active  in 
picking  minnows  out  of  the  water  even  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  the  shore.  In  Florida  and  the  other  gulf 
districts,  however,  they  undoubtedly  catch  a  great  many 
insects  even  in  winter. 

Terns  in  general  and  the  black  tern  in  particular  are 
birds  evidently  intended  by  the  great  Creator  for  our 
pleasure.  They  do  no  harm  in  any  way,  living  as  they 
do  along  creeks,  ponds,  and  lakes.  Doubtless  the  in- 
sects on  which  they  largely  feed  are  not  the  ones  that 
would  do  our  crops  much  injury,  so  we  would  not  class 
them  among  our  most  beneficial  birds;  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  it  is  nothing  short  of  barbarous  to  sacrifice  the 
lives  of  millions  of  terns,  as  has  been  done  in  the  past, 
merely  to  ornament  women's  hats.  Fortunately  the  law 
now  gives  them  protection,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  be- 
fore many  years  we  shall  again  see  them  in  the  great  num- 
bers in  which  they  existed  thirty  or  forty  years  ago  about 
the  streams  and  ponds  of  the  Dakotas,  Minnesota,  Colo- 
rado, and  adjoining  districts. 


3      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 
Key  to  the  Families  of  Longipennes 

RYNCHOPIDJE — Skimmers. 

With  the  lower  mandible  much  longer  than  the  upper. 
LARID^E — Gulls  and  Terns. 

With  the  lower  mandible  not  longer  than  the  upper,  and  with  the  upper 

mandible  in  one  piece. 
STERCORARIID-E — Jaegers. 

With  the  upper  mandible  composed  of  three  pieces,  one  a  saddle-like 

basal  portion. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Tubinares 

DiOMEDEiD2E — Albatrosses. 

With  the  nasal   tubes  separated  and  situated   on  sides  of  the  upper 

mandible. 
PKOCELLARIID^E — Petrels  and   Shearwaters. 

With  the  nasal  tubes  united  and  situated   on  the  top  of  the  basal 

portion  of  the  upper  mandible. 


YOUNG  DOUBLE-CRESTED  CORMORANTS 


YOUNG  TERNS 
(See    Chapter   5) 


THE  DOUBLE-CRESTED  CORMORANT? 

SOME  birds,  like  some  people,  do  not  always  follow  the 
good  and  wise  habits  of  their  forefathers.  The  cor- 
morants evidently  belong  to  this  class.  Having  feet  similar 
to  a  goose's  and  a  body  that  closely  resembles  that  of  a 
duck,  they  have  lost  the  custom  of  eating  roots,  grass, 
grain,  and  the  tender  shoots  of  plants  and  turned  to  be 
meat-eaters.  The  bill,  altho  not  broad  at  the  base  like  the 
duck's,  is  stout  throughout  its  whole  length  and  is  hooked 
like  that  of  a  bird  of  prey.  Cormorants  differ  from  loons 
and  many  other  diving  birds  in  that  they  retain  strong 
powers  of  flight  and  are  able  to  rise  out  of  the  water  almost 
as  easily  as  a  goose  or  a  duck. 

Doubtless  because  they  find  a  better  supply  of  food 
there,  they  are  confined  largely  to  the  coast  and  are  there- 
fore not  found  inland  except  on  suitable  bodies  of  water. 
They  live  during  the  summer  time  mostly  on  the  islands 
off  the  coast  of  Labrador  and  Newfoundland,  where  they 
congregate  in  great  numbers.  They  are  especially  numer- 
ous in  those  parts  of  the  country  that  are  so  sterile  and 
forbidding  that  no  man  lives  there  and  only  occasional 
fishermen  come.  They  nest  preferably  on  high  rocky 
cliffs,  but  they  also  build  nests  by  the  thousands  along  the 
shore  out  of  reach  of  tidewater.  Other  forms  of  this 

33 


34      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

species  breed  on  the  Pacific  coast  and  on  the  large  lakes 
of  the  Far  West. 

The  old  birds  gather  dead  weeds,  a  few  sticks,  moss  and 
seaweed  by  the  bushel  and  often  build  their  nest  as  much 
as  two  feet  high.  The  nests  are  built  about  as  close  to- 
gether as  they  can  be  placed,  these  birds  seemingly  feeling 
more  secure  when  close  together. 

Audubon,  who  visited  the  nesting  grounds,  tells  TIS  that 
when  his  boat  landed,  the  parent  birds  all  rose  together  and 
flew  out  to  sea,  alighting  well  out  of  range  of  their  guns, 
where  they  remained  until  his  party  had  finished  their 
explorations  and  left  the  nests.  He  says  he  found  young 
birds  of  all  sizes  as  well  as  eggs,  which  makes  it  plain 
that  these  birds  do  not  all  nest  at  the  same  time.  When 
they  drew  near  to  the  nests  the  young  birds  which  were  old 
enough  to  do  so  promptly  scrambled  out  of  the  nest  and 
huddled  together  in  little  groups  of  fifteen  or  twenty, 
while  others  hid  themselves  in  the  crevices  and  crannies  in 
the  rock.  They  tried  their  best  to  flatten  themselves  out 
against  the  rocks  and  earth  so  that  they  would  be  as  in- 
conspicuous as  possible  and  then  crept  along  very  much  as 
I  used  to  do  when  I  was  trying  to  creep  up  on  game.  Not 
being  possessed  of  both  hands  and  feet  as  I  am,  they  did 
their  best  by  using  their  wings,  their  feet,  and  even  their 
bills  in  pulling  themselves  along  over  the  surface. 

If  any  one  approaches  closely  they  begin  to  make  their 
necks  writhe  very  much  like  the  writhing  of  a  snake.  As 
Audubon  says,  this  motion  has  such  a  snakelike  appearance 
that  it  is  positively  revolting,  nor  does  the  resemblance 
end  here.  No  sooner  does  the  intruder  get  close  than  the 
birds  begin  hissing  loudly  and  continuously.  They  doubt- 
less feel  that  they  will  be  able  to  frighten  away  their 


THE  DOUBLE-BREASTED  CORMORANT      35 

enemies,  and  probably  they  are  sometimes  able  to  do  this. 
Not  BO  with  the  fishermen,  however.  That  fishermen  are 
used  to  a  rough,  sea-faring  life,  and  as  they  must  make 
their  living  from  the  fish  they  catch  they  are  always  anxi- 
ous to  secure  an  abundance  of  good  bait.  They  made  it 
a  practise  to  land  on  the  cormorant's  nesting  grounds  and 
kill  the  young  birds  by  the  hundreds  or  even  thousands, 
using  them  for  bait  in  their  sea-fishing.  It  seems  strange, 
but  fish,  when  they  are  looking  for  a  delicate  tit-bit,  often 
prefer  the  creatures  that  live  on  land  to  those  that  live  in 
the  water,  just  as  most  carnivorous  animals  and  birds  often 
prefer  fish  to  other  animals. 

These  birds  ordinarily  lay  two  to  four  eggs,  which,  if 
they  were  thoroughly  cleaned,  would  be  of  a  greenish  color 
like  a  duck's  egg.  As  it  is  they  are  usually  covered  with  a 
whitish  deposit  and  are  often  so  plastered  with  mud  and 
filth  that  it  is  difficult  to  tell  the  real  color.  When  the 
young  birds  hatch  they  are  queer,  ugly  little  creatures, 
covered  with  a  muddy  black  down.  They  are  helpless, 
being  blind  for  more  than  a  week.  For  perhaps  two  weeks 
the  mother  birds  feed  them  by  emptying  their  own  stomach 
into  the  throat  of  the  young  bird.  When  the  bird  is  old 
enough  to  see  well  and  is  beginning  to  be  quite  well 
feathered,  say  by  the  time  he  is  two  weeks  old,  he  should 
weigh  about  two  pounds. 

Now  the  mother  begins  to  place  whole  fish  in  his  mouth 
and  allows  him  to  tear  them  up  for  himself.  In  a  few  days 
she  will  cease  taking  even  this  much  trouble,  but  will  lay 
the  fish  on  the  side  of  the  nest  or  on  the  ground  by  the 
nest  and  expect  the  young  bird  to  get  them  when  he  is 
hungry.  The  young  grow  very  rapidly,  but  they  stay  in 
the  nest,  or  at  least  do  not  leave  it  for  more  than  a  short 


36       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

time,  until  they  are  able*  to  fly,  or  at  least  swim  well.  As 
soon  as  they  can  fly,  they  are  deserted  by  their  parents,  who 
seem  to  feel  that  now  they  should  be  able  to  look  after 
themselves. 

The  favorite  food  of  the  cormorant  is  fish  and  other 
small  aquatic  animals  near  the  shore,  and  they  eat  also 
thousands  of  young  cod  and  other  fish.  Feeding  as  they 
do,  their  flesh  is  never  used  for  food.  In  fact,  even  their 
eggs  are  so  strongly  flavored  that  the  fisherf oik  who  collect 
the  eggs  of  gulls  and  other  water  birds  for  food  never 
think  of  eating  the  cormorant's  eggs. 

In  the  late  fall  the  birds  migrate  to  the  coast  of  north- 
eastern United  States.  In  flight,  one  not  used  to  them 
might  mistake  them  for  large  ducks  as  they  usually  fly  in 
a  straight  line  as  the  ducks  fly.  Sometimes,  however,  they 
form  a  V  shaped  line  like  wild  geese. 

This  cormorant  is  dull  grayish-brown  on  back  and  wings, 
black  with  a  faint  greenish  sheen  elsewhere.  On  his  head 
in  the  breeding  season  are  two  plume-like  tufts  of  feathers 
which  curl  forward,  making  a  conspicuous  double  crest, 
which  gives  the  bird  its  name,  the  double-crested  cormo- 
rant. We  have  several  varieties  of  cormorants,  but  the 
double-crested  one  and  its  sub-species  is  the  one  most 
generally  seen  in  our  country  but  is  not  the  most  beautiful. 
As  his  habits  are  very  similar  to  those  of  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  the  story  of 
the  others. 


VII 

LTHE  WHITE  FISHER 

WHEN"  I  was  a  small  boy  I  was  sometimes  allowed 
to  accompany  my  older  brother  on  a  duck  hunting 
expedition  to  Skunk  River,  two  or  three  miles  away.  We 
usually  got  away  from  home  before  daylight  and  walked 
with  the  expectation  of  reaching  the  ponds  by  sunrise,  for 
that  is  the  time  at  which  there  is  the  best  chance  of  getting 
wild  ducks.  One  spring  we  had  not  been  able  to  get  away 
from  home  and  go  hunting  as  often  as  we  wished,  which 
would  have  been  a  great  many  times  indeed.  I  am 
ashamed  now  that  I  ever  went  hunting  at  all  in  the  spring, 
for  at  this  time  birds  are  so  intent  on  love  making  and 
nest  building  that  they  do  not  have  a  fair  chance;  and 
besides  a  bird  killed  at  this  time  means  several  more 
that  they  might  have  reared  that  season. 

Along  about  the  last  of  April,  after  most  of  the  ducks 
and  geese  had  gone  north,  some  one  told  us  that  there  waa 
a  floc£  of  ducks  staying  in  the  crabapple  pond.  That  was 
very  interesting  news,  for  hunters  had  long  since  gone  to 
the  more  profitable  business  of  plowing  for  corn,  and  so 
we  boys  were  sure  that  our  chance  of  securing  some  of 
these  ducks  would  be  very  good.  As  there  were  not  so 
many  hunters  along  the  river,  we  thought  it  would  not 
be  necessary  to  go  early  in  the  morning;  so  after  break- 

87 


38       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

fast  we  did  up  the  chores  about  the  place,  got  on  old  Phoebe, 
Brother  John  riding  in  front  and  carrying  the  gun,  and  I 
behind,  and  started  for  the  river.  It  was  an  uncommon 
thing  indeed  for  us  to  be  allowed  to  go  duck  hunting  on 
horseback,  but  we  had  promised  that  if  we  might  take  a 
horse  we  would  get  back  for  dinner  and  that  brother  would 
plow  in  the  afternoon. 

We  reached  the  vicinity  of  Sellar's  pond  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  tied  old  Phoebe  to  a  tree,  slipped 
into  the  field,  and  began  creeping  on  hands  and  knees 
toward  the  pond.  There  was  a  high  hill  rising  abruptly 
above  Sellar's  pond  on  the  side  away  from  the  river,  and 
we  were  on  lEhe  brow  of  this  hill.  This  gave  us  some  ad- 
vantage, for  a  bird  sitting  on  the  water  a  hundred  feet 
below  is  not  so  apt  to  notice  objects  on  the  top  of  the  hill 
as  those  that  are  somewhere  near  the  level  of  the  water. 
There  was  a  small  clump  of  buck  brush  just  on  the  brow  of 
this  hill,  and  we  crept  up  behind  this.  When  we  were  able 
to  see  the  water  below,  we  both  gasped  with  pleasure  and 
excitement,  for  on  the  far  side  of  the  pond  were  five  giant 
white  birds  as  big  as  small  sheep.  To  our  excited  eyes 
they  looked  as  large  as  cows. 

Neither  of  us  had  ever  seen  any  birds  like  these  at  any- 
thing like  close  range  before.  They  were  snow  white,  all 
but  the  quill  feathers  of  the  wings,  which  were  black,  mak- 
ing a  black  bar  across  the  side  of  the  body.  The  body  was 
large  and  plump  and  the  neck  comparatively  short.  I  say 
comparatively,  because  it  was  not  nearly  so  long  as  the 
neck  of  a  swan,  the  only  water  bird  anywhere  near  their 
size;  but  the  thing  about  these  birds  that  attracted  our 
attention  most  was  their  enormous  bills.  These  bills  were 
nearly  a  foot  long,  and  had  a  tremendous  pouch  under  the 


THE  WHITE  FISHER  39 

lower  mandible  that  looked  as  though  it  might  hold  a 
gallon  of  water.  We  were  close  enough  to  see  them  very 
clearly.  I  whispered,  "What  are  they?"  and  John  an- 
swered, "Pelicans."  We  had  a  few  times  seen  great  white 
birds  fly  silently  over  head,  flapping  very  slowly  yet  show- 
ing great  strength  and  power  of  flight,  and  had  been  told 
that  they  were  pelicans.  In  fact,  father  and  mother  had 
told  us  that  in  the  early  days,  when  they  first  settled  in 
Iowa,  pelicans  were  common  along  the  river ;  but  that  was 
in  the  days  gone  by,  and  only  on  rare  occasions  had  any 
one  in  years  seen  one  in  those  parts,  much  less  known 
them  to  alight.  True,  only  the  year  before  we  had  been 
surprized  to  see  a  flock  of  more  than  a  hundred  fly  over, 
and  father  had  taken  this  occasion  to  tell  us  wonderful 
stories  of  the  days  when  pelicans  used  to  nest  on  Holmes 
Lake  and  keep  the  ducks  and  geese  and  even  the  swans 
away  from  their  neighborhood. 

We  watched  these  birds  for  several  minutes,  forgetting 
all  about  the  wonderful  opportunity  of  shooting  them. 
They  evidently  were  hungry,  and  had  alighted  in  this  pond 
because  it  was  well  stocked  with  minnows.  At  the  lower 
end  there  was  a  sort  of  slough  through  which  at  high  water 
the  river  ran  across  the  field  to  the  Crabapple  pond  a  few 
hundred  yards  below.  This  shallow  neck  narrowed  down 
almost  to  a  point.  Evidently  those  pelicans  had  not  been 
long  on  this  pond,  or  else  they  had  roosted  there  and,  hav- 
ing fed  to  the  full  the  evening  before,  were  just  getting 
ready  for  breakfast.  At  any  rate,  though  they  had  heen 
quietly  floating  on  the  water  when  we  first  saw  them,  an 
old  pelican  suddenly  raised  his  head,  flapped  his  wings  and 
started  swimming  across  the  pond  toward  this  shallow  neck. 
The  other  pelicans  very  quickly  fell  in  line,  swimming 


40       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

three  or  four  feet  apart,  moving  very  much  as  a  company 
of  soldiers  would  move  in  making  a  charge.  When  they 
came  to  where  the  water  was  shallow  they  evidently  began 
to  see  fish,  or  now  they  quickened  their  pace,  and  began 
beating  the  water  with  their  great  wings,  making  it  splash 
in  every  direction  as  all  bore  down  toward  this  shallow 
point.  We  watched  in  breathless  interest  until  they  drove 
down  to  where  the  water  was  scarcely  deep  enough  to  swim 
in,  when  suddenly  they  ceased  their  rapid  advance  and 
begun  scooping  their  great  bills  down  into  the  water.  A 
pelican  would  use  his  bill  as  I  would  use  a  small  net  when 
catching  minnows.  Making  a  rapid  scoop  through  the 
water,  then  closing  the  bill  just  tightly  enough  that  no 
fish  could  escape,  would  raise  his  head  and  allow  the 
water  to  run  out.  Then  he  would  swallow  the  fish  he  had 
caught  and  make  another  scoop. 

They  worked  very  rapidly  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes, 
moving  forward  to  the  very  point  of  the  little  neck  of  water. 
Of  course  I  never  know  how  many  fish  they  caught, 
but  I  knew  the  trick  they  had  practised  very  well,  for  we 
small  boys  had  learned  that  when  we  wished  to  catch  fish 
in  a  minnow  seine,  if  we  formed  in  line  across  a  stream  and 
move  forward,  splashing  the  water  and  making  a  com- 
motion, the  frightened  fish  would  run  ahead,  and  when 
the  proper  time  came  we  could  use  our  coffee  sack  seine 
and  catch  dozens  of  minnows.  It  seemed  wonderful  to  us 
that  these  birds  should  have  learned  this  trick  and  were 
wise  enough  to  work  in  concert. 

By  the  time  the  birds  had  chased  the  minnows  down 
into  the  lower  end  of  the  pond  and  our  curiosity  had  been 
satisfied  by  watching  them  fish,  they  were  out  of  range  of 
our  old  army  musket,  which  had  been  reamed  out  to  make 


THE  WHITE  FISHER  41 

a  shot  gun.  We  were  not  wise  enough  to  lie  still  and  wait 
until  they  came  back  into  range,  but  brother  told  me  to 
lie  still  and  watch  and  he  would  creep  down  the  brow  of 
the  hill  till  he  got  within  gunshot.  He  started  on  this 
expedition,  but  had  gone  only  two  or  three  rods  when  the 
pelicans,  having  finished  their  fishing,  turned  about  and 
started  to  swim  back  up  the  pond.  One  of  them  spied 
his  head  and  the  end  of  his  gun  above  the  skyline  and 
gave  utterance  to  a  low  noise  very  much  like  that  you 
make  by  blowing  into  a  large  bottle,  and  without  more  ado 
they  all  took  flight.  We  watched  them  go  down  the  river 
and  disappear  behind  the  crabapple  grove  on  the  bank  of 
Crabapple  Pond.  Supposing  they  had  alighted  in  this 
pond  and  resumed  their  fishing,  we  followed. 

We  spent  most  of  the  forenoon  following  these  birds 
from  pond  to  pond  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  must 
have  crawled  miles  on  our  bellies  in  the  vain  attempt  to 
get  within  gunshot  again.  They  apparently  were  not 
wild,  for  they  never  flew  far  at  a  time,  merely  going  from 
pond  to  pond,  but  for  some  reason  or  other  they  were  on 
the  alert  and  saw  to  it  that  we  never  again  got  within 
gunshot.  Once  or  twice  during  the  morning  a  flock  of  wild 
ducks  flew  overhead  within  range;  but  we  were  stalking 
pelicans,  and  the  desire  to  kill  one  of  them  was  so  strong 
that  we  would  not  shoot  at  smaller  game  lest  the  noise 
of  the  gun  frighten  away  the  larger  birds  that  we  hoped 
to  get  a  little  later. 

When  noon  came  and  we  had  to  go  home,  the  only  thing 
we  had  to  take  with  us  was  a  wonderfully  interesting  story 
— which  is,  after  all,  the  most  valuable  thing  a  hunter 
can  get.  The  next  day  father  determined  to  go  to  the 
river  and  get  one  of  these  pelicans.  He  had  long  since 


42       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

given  up  duck  hunting,  but  pelicans  were  different.  Ac- 
cordingly he  shouldered  his  gun  and  tramped  to  the  river 
before  daylight.  Along  about  one  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon he  came  home  carrying  five  or  six  wild  ducks  but 
reported  that  he  had  not  seen  any  trace  of  the  larger  birds. 

Evidently  they  had  gone  north  during  the  night. 

These  were  the  last  of  their  kind  I  ever  saw  until  I  went 
to  Utah  some  ten  or  fifteen  years  later,  in  the  year  1898. 
I  spent  two  years  at  Provo  City,  which  is  situated  near 
the  beautiful  fresh  water  Utah  Lake.  This  lake  is  some 
twelve  or  fifteen  miles  wide,  and  has  a  small  rocky  island 
near  the  middle.  The  island  is  neither  more  nor  less 
than  a  low  mountain  rising  from  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  A 
number  of  pelicans  nested  regularly  on  this  island.  It  is 
in  such  places  that  they  always  prefer  to  live.  They  either 
nest  on  some  high  rocky  point  or  select  a  low  or  high  rocky 
island  at  some  considerable  distance  from  the  shore,  usually 
choosing  an  island  that  has  no  human  inhabitants.  There 
they  build  their  nests  by  merely  making  a  shallow  depres- 
sion in  the  ground  or  by  making  a  heap  of  earth  and  lining 
it  with  grass  and  feathers  or  sometimes  with  sticks  and 
rubbish.  Their  eggs  are  very  large,  among  the  largest  of 
the  eggs  of  birds  which  live  in  America. 

I  used  to  like  to  go  down  to  the  shore  of  Utah  Lake  of 
an  evening  and  watch  the  pelicans.  They  seldom  fish  in 
flocks  during  the  mating  season.  In  fact,  while  others 
claim  that  they  usually  fish  in  flocks,  I  never  had  the 
good  fortune  of  seeing  them  do  so  except  as  I  have 
described  above.  Utah  Lake  was  so  full  of  minnows  and 
fish  of  all  kinds  that  perhaps  it  was  unnecessary  to  fish  in 
bands.  At  any  rate  the  usual  procedure  was  for  an  old 
pelican  to  come  flapping  across  the  lake,  flying  very  low 


THE  WHITE  FISHER  43 

so  that  he  might  easily  observe  any  fish  in  the  water  below. 
At  the  upper  end  there  were  a  number  of  small  streams 
that  flowed  into  the  lake  close  to  each  other.  At  the  point 
where  these  streams  entered,  the  water  was  shallow  for  a 
considerable  distance,  and  was  grown  up  with  rushes  and 
cat-tails.  No  one  could  wade  here  and  it  was  too  shallow 
to  go  with  a  boat.  Among  these  reeds  thousands  of  small 
fish  played  during  the  hot  summer  days,  for  not  only  was 
there  food  abundant  but  they  were  safe  from  larger  fish. 
The  pelicans  always  headed  for  this  part  of  the  lake.  Here 
a  single  bird  could  drive  the  minnows  into  a  nook  and 
quickly  catch  them.  When  the  old  bird  had  eaten  all  he 
wished,  he  would  fill  his  pouch  to  the  brim  and  lazily  fly 
over  to  the  island  to  feed  his  young. 

I  have  never  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  one  of  these 
birds  feed  its  young,  so  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  done ;  but 
I  do  know  that  one  day  a  pelican  flew  reasonably  near  and 
a  friend  of  mine  who  was  with  me  in  a  boat  shot  at  him. 
Of  course  he  did  not  hurt  the  pelican,  but  it  was  fright- 
ened so  badly  that  it  dropped  two  or  three  fish  out  of  its 
pouch.  We  rowed  quickly  to  where  those  fish  fell  to  see 
if  they  were  dead  or  alive.  We  knew  that  if  they  were 
injured  they  would  be  found  floating  on  the  surface  of 
the  water,  but  as  we  could  find  nothing  of  them  we  were 
convinced  that  they  were  uninjured. 

The  white  pelican  is  no  longer  found  over  the  greater 
part  of  the  United  States,  except  during  migration, 
altho  in  the  early  history  of  this  country  it  was  found 
much  more  extensively.  It  is  recognized  by  its  giant  bill 
with  a  large  pouch  beneath.  Several  varieties  are  often 
seen  in  our  city  parks,  but  our  American  species  differs 
from  all  of  the  others  in  that  it  has  a  bony  protuberance 


44       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

on  the  top  of  the  bill  during  the  breeding  season.  The 
pelican  is  one  of  the  largest  of  North  American  birds.  He 
is  still  found  in  numbers  in  the  Yellowstone  National  Park, 
where  he  nests  on  the  islands  in  the  Yellowstone  Lake,  and 
at  isolated  localities  in  the  Western  United  States. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Steganopodes 

PHAETHONTID.S — Tropic-birds. 

With  the  head  wholly  feathered  and  the  nostrils  easily  seen. 

ANHINGIM: — Anhingas. 

With  the  head  not  wholly  feathered,  the  nostrils  not  easily  seen,  the 
bill  slender  and  sharply  pointed,  the  tail  and  its  feathers  rounded. 

SuLiDvE — Gannets  and  Boobies. 

With   the   bill    stout   but   not   hooked,    the   tail    more  or   less   wedge- 
shaped  and  its  feathers  more  or  less  pointed, 

FREGATID.X — Man-o'-War   Birds. 

With  bill  distinctly  hooked,  tail  forked,  and  space  around  eye  feathered. 

PELECANIOE — Pelicans. 

With  bill  having  a  large  pouch  beneath,  extending:  to  the  tip  of  the 
lower  mandible. 

PHALACROCORACIOK — Cormorants. 

With    bill    narrow    and    distinctly    hooked,    a    small    throat    pouch    not 
extending  to  the  middle  of  lower  mandible  and  the  tail  not  forked. 


Fully  Webbed  Foot  of  one  of  the  STEGANOPODES 


yui 

JOHNNIE  GEEENHEAD 

THE  boy  had  been  wandering  up  and  down  Skunk  Eiver 
all  one  Sabbath  morning  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be 
able  to  surprize  a  "thunderpump"  (or  bittern,  as  I  would 
probably  now  call  it),  and  so  be  able  to  learn  just  how 
he  makes  his  thundering  noise.  The  old  hunters  of  the 
neighborhood  differed  so  widely  in  their  opinions  on 
this  point  that  the  boy  had  made  up  his  mind  that  there 
was  only  one  way  to  decide  the  matter — to  see  for  himself. 
The  morning  was  bright  and  the  sun  was  doing  its  best  to 
warm  everything  into  activity.  Squirrels  scolded  in  the 
trees,  flowers  bloomed  on  the  ground,  and  birds  were  singing 
everywhere.  In  fact,  it  was  just  the  kind  of  day  that  calls 
man  to  worship  in  "God's  first  tabernacles/'  the  woods. 
There  being  no  convenient  church  privileges,  the  boy's 
parents  believed  that  no  boy  ever  receives  any  impression 
other  than  those  of  reverence  and  good  when  alone  with 
nature,  and  so  did  not  hesitate  to  let  him  go  to  the  woods 
at  any  time. 

Suddenly,  not  far  from  the  old  willow  mill,  the  noise  of 
a  "thunderpump"  was  heard.  The  boy  knew  this  bird  must 
be  on  the  shore  of  the  river  just  around  the  bend  and 
determined  to  creep  up,  making  no  noise,  and  catch 
it  unawares.  Slipping  through  the  underbrush  as  quietly 

45 


46       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

as  possible,  he  poked  his  head  over  the  edge  of  the  bank  to 
see  this  "thunderpump"  disappearing  around  the  bend  of 
the  river  above.  Disappointed  and  tired  from  his  long 
crawl,  the  boy  dropped  on  the  sod  and  began  looking  about 
with  no  purpose  in  particular.  Finally  his  eye  rested  on 
a  hollow  snag,  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  away,  just  in  time 
to  see  a  wood  duck  enter  the  hollow.  The  boy  had  never 
been  told  that  the  wood  duck  differs  from  most  ducks  in 
that  at  times  it  not  only  lights  in  trees,  but  actually  nests 
in  hollow  trees,  so  of  course  he  was  interested. 

While  he  was  watching  this  hole  and  wondering  whether 
it  were  possible  to  catch  the  duck  while  she  was  inside,  as 
he  had  sometimes  been  able  to  catch  mother  screech  owl 
or  father  redhead,  the  woodpecker,  the  duck  flew  out  of 
the  hole  with  something  in  her  mouth.  This  was  still  more 
amazing  to  the  boy.  He  had  seen  crows  carry  eggs  in  their 
bill,  but  a  duck — who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  duck 
carrying  anything  in  its  bill?  And  granting  that  ducks 
do  carry  things  in  their  bills,  what  could  this  duck  have 
found  in  a  hollow  tree?  Surely  ducks  do  not  rob  birds' 
nests. 

But  he  did  not  have  to  speculate  long,  for  this  mother 
of  the  forest,  unaware  of  his  presence,  flew  toward  the  high 
bank  on  which  the  boy  was  resting,  where  the  river  made 
a  bend  and  the  water  was  perfectly  quiet — at  least  no 
current  was  noticeable.  As  she  came  near,  the  boy  was 
astounded  to  see  that  she  was  carrying  a  baby  duckling  in 
her  mouth.  Flying  to  within  some  ten  feet  of  the  water, 
she  dropped  her  burden  and  started  back  to  the  tree.  The 
baby  duckling  dropped  into  the  water  without  injury  and 
began  paddling  round  and  round  not  more  than  fifty  feet 
from  where  the  boy  lay.  In  a  few  moments,  the  mother 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  47 

returned  with  another  duckling  which  she  dropped  in  the 
same  way.  Now  the  two  ducklings  swam  round  and  round 
together  while  the  mother  went  back  for  a  third.  This 
was  kept  up  until  fourteen  bahy  ducklings  had  been 
dropped  into  the  water,  when  the  mother  herself  alighted 
and  led  them  across  the  river  to  where  the  water  was 
shallow  and  the  reeds  were  plentiful,  where  they  began 
to  feed. 

This  certainly  was  to  be  a  red  letter  day  for  the  boy. 
He  not  only  had  learned  that  the  wood  duck  nests  in  trees, 
but  had  been  so  fortunate  as  actually  to  witness  her  carrying 
her  brood  to  the  water,  now  that  they  were  old  enough  to 
require  food  and  not  to  be  injured  by  swimming  in  the 
water. 

Some  Sabbath  days,  if  the  weather  was  fair,  the  boy 
stayed  in  the  woods  most  of  the  day,  and  he  decided  that 
this  was  going  to  be  one  of  those  days.  After  spending 
two  or  three  hours  watching  this  mother  wood  duck  feed 
her  babies,  he  followed  the  river  up  to  the  mouth  of 
Wymore's  branch  and  decided  to  follow  this  creek  home. 
Not  far  from  where  this  creek  runs  into  the  river  in  those 
days  there  was  a  small  marsh,  no  more  than  a  rod  or  two 
square,  in  which  bulrushes  and  sweet  flags  grew.  The  boy 
was  fond  of  chewing  sweet  flag  root,  calamus  he  called  it, 
and  he  decided  to  get  a  piece  of  this  root.  Carefully 
picking  his  way  from  tussock  to  tussock  in  order  to  reach 
the  finest  calamus  bed,  he  was  startled  by  seeing  a  mother 
mallard  duck  fly  out  of  a  clump  of  rushes.  He  had  been 
told  that  wood  ducks  occasionally  still  nested  along  the 
Skunk  Eiver,  but  to  find  a  mallard's  nest  was  a  surprize 
indeed.  In  this  nest  were  a  dozen  green  eggs  a  little  larger 
than  a  hen's  egg.  The  boy  put  them  into  his  hat,  that  con- 


48       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

venient  receptacle  in  which  he  carried  everything  that  he 
found  in  the  woods  from  strawberries  to  mud  turtles,  and 
trudged  home  with  his  treasures,  determined  to  set  them 
under  his  old  duck-legged  hen,  that  wonderful  mother- 
chicken  of  his  which  had  grown  so  old  that  she  seldom  laid 
more  than  a  few  eggs  in  a  clutch,  and  could  always  be 
pursuaded  to  sit  by  merely  placing  her  in  a  barrel  with 
a  nest  full  of  eggs  and  covering  her  up  for  a  day  or  two. 
This  hen  had  not  only  incubated  but  cared  for  birds  and 
fowls  of  every  description  for  the  boy,  from  barred  owls  and 
red-tailed  hawks  to  quails,  guineas  and  peacocks.  It 
would  not  be  a  hard  matter  to  induce  her  to  become  foster 
mother  to  a  flock  of  mallard  ducks.  In  fact,  it  was  doubt- 
ful whether  this  mother  hen  would  ever  know  that  her 
wards  differed  from  the  domestic  ducks  that  she  was 
accustomed  to  care  for  every  summer. 

On  reaching  home,  the  eggs  were  put  in  a  large  dish 
in  the  cupboard  with  the  expectation  they  would  be  set  in 
the  morning.  The  family  cooking  was  done  in  a  wood  stove 
that  stood  not  more  than  three  or  four  feet  from  this  cup- 
board, and  of  course  the  air  in  the  cupboard  was  warm  as 
a  result  of  getting  the  evening  meal.  When  the  doors  were 
closed  for  the  night,  this  air  would  remain  warm  until 
morning. 

Next  morning,  when  breakfast  was  about  ready,  the  good 
mother  as  usual  called  the  boy  to  help  by  setting  the  table. 
Opening  the  cupboard  to  get  the  dishes,  what  was  his  sur- 
prize to  find  not  his  duck  eggs,  but  twelve  fluffy,  little 
ducklings.  All  had  hatched  over  night.  No  matter,  mother 
hen  could  be  induced  to  take  care  of  almost  any  kind  of 
orphan,  whether  she  were  sitting  or  not;  so  she  was  placed 
in  a  coop  with  these  ducklings  and  given  a  dish  of  water 


MALE  AND  FEMALE  MALLARD 


MALLARD  DRAKE 
Photo  by  Frank  C.  Pellett 


CANADA  GOOSE 
(See  Chapter  9) 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  49 

and  some  corn  meal  mixed  with  sand  and  enough  water  to 
form  a  stiff  crumbly  dough. 

Those  babies  of  the  wood  were  exceedingly  shy.  In  fact, 
there  is  nothing  more  surprizing  than  to  see  how  different 
are  the  actions  of  newly  hatched  domestic  fowls  from  those 
of  wild  birds  of  the  same  kind.  Whereas  newly  hatched 
domestic  ducklings  would  have  been  content  with  this 
chicken  mother  and  would  have  remained  with  her  as 
readily  as  with  their  own  mother,  this  was  not  true  with 
these  baby  mallards.  It  was  only  with  difficulty  they  were 
persuaded  to  accept  her  care.  In  time  they  became  tame 
enough  to  allow  themselves  to  be  fed  by  the  members  of  the 
family,  but  they  were  always  shy  when  strangers  came  about 
and  were  continually  running  away  from  their  foster 
mother.  When  they  grew  older,  one  after  another  dis- 
appeared. Whether  they  died  or  ran  away  or  were  stolen, 
the  boy  was  never  quite  sure,  but  when  fall  came,  only 
Johnnie  Greenhead  remained.  His  companions  gone,  he 
gradually  accepted  the  company  of  the  domestic  ducks ;  and 
as  they  were  greenhead  ducks  themselves,  probably  descend- 
ants of  mallard  ancestors  of  less  than  a  hundred  years 
before,  he  came  in  time  to  feel  quite  at  home  with  them. 
Having  been  fed  the  best  of  everything  from  babyhood,  he 
grew  to  be  a  giant  of  his  race.  Not  only  was  he  larger  than 
a  wild  mallard,  but  larger  than  the  largest  of  the  domestic 
drakes  in  the  farmyard. 

The  boy's  mother  was  a  provident  soul  and  believed  that 
ducks  and  geese  should  be  picked  several  times  a  year, 
for  were  not  feathers  necessary  if  one  desired  a  warm,  com- 
fortable bed  or  good  soft  pillows?  When  picking  time 
came,  all  of  the  victims  resented  the  operation  more  or  less, 
but  to  Johnnie  Greenhead  it  was  a  tragedy,  the  more  so 


50      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

perhaps  because  he  not  only  had  his  hody  feathers  plucked, 
but  the  quills  were  pulled  out  of  one  of  his  wings.  This 
latter  was  to  prevent  his  being  able  to  disappear  as  had  his 
fellows.  Picking  ceased,  however,  about  the  first  of  Octo- 
ber, for  fowls  must  have  an  abundance  of  warm  feathers 
during  the  cold  Iowa  winters. 

When  the  wild  ducks  came  trooping  southward  from  the 
nesting  grounds  of  northern  Iowa  and  Minnesota,  Johnnie 
often  flopped  his  wings  and  tried  in  vain  to  join  them ;  but 
it  was  of  no  avail,  for  no  bird  can  fly  with  one  full  wing 
and  the  other  plucked. 

By  the  time  he  had  grown  wing  feathers  the  ducks  had 
long  since  ceased  passing  over,  so  he  settled  down  with  more 
or  less  content  for  the  winter.  By  spring  every  one  took 
it  for  granted  that  Johnnie  was  fully  domesticated,  and  he 
seemed  to  share  the  general  opinion.  At  least  he  seemed 
contented  to  stay  with  the  flock  that  spring  and  summer, 
and  for  that  matter  the  next  fall  and  winter.  No  one 
thought  of  keeping  his  wings  plucked  any  more.  But 
Johnnie  brooded  over  his  troubles  every  time  he  was  picked, 
and  finally  he  began  to  lead  the  flock  to  the  brook  that  ran 
past  the  wild  grape  arbor  and  the  crabapple  thicket.  No 
one  thought  much  of  this,  for  it  was  the  custom  of  the 
farmstead  to  pen  the  ducks  every  night  during  laying  sea- 
son and  not  to  give  them  their  liberty  until  eight-  or  nine- 
o'clock  the  next  morning,  by  which  time  all  the  eggs  were 
laid.  The  rest  of  the  day  they  were  allowed  to  run  at  will, 
for  the  mistress  believed  that  ducks  always  do  better  if 
they  are  allowed  to  swim  and  feed  in  the  water  at  least  a 
part  of  the  day,  especially  during  the  breeding  season. 
Johnnie  became  still  more  resentful  when  one  day,  as 
a  result  of  his  leading  the  flock  to  Wymore's  Branch,  a 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  51 

half  mile  away,  they  were  shut  in  the  horse  lot  and  were 
not  allowed  to  go  to  the  brook  to  swim.  Evidently  the 
love  of  freedom  was  fast  coming  to  outweigh  the  feeling 
of  security  and  the  love  of  plenty  of  good  feed  at  home,  or 
was  it  that  Johnnie  had  no  idea  of  the  hardships  of  the 
wildlings  ?  However  this  may  be,  late  in  April  he  decided 
to  leave  his  friends  and  the  only  home  he  had  ever  known. 

One  bright  morning,  just  at  daybreak,  he  rose  into  the 
air  and  flew  straight  toward  the  river  some  two  miles  away. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Johnnie  that  the  weather  had 
come  off  warm  and  fair  and  every  one  was  busy  sowing 
oats  or  plowing  corn.  Had  he  decided  to  leave  ten  days 
earlier,  when  there  were  hunters  stalking  every  pond  and 
every  bend  of  the  river,  his  fate  would  have  been  certain, 
for  his  training  had  taught  him  that  the  instinct  to  fear 
man  was  only  a  delusion. 

With  a  glad  quack  he  lighted  in  the  crabapple  pond 
and  began  swimming  around  and  feeding  on  the  lus- 
cious water  grass  that  lined  the  shore.  If  only  the  rest 
of  the  flock  had  come  with  him  he  would  have  been  per- 
fectly happy,  but  he  was  not  so  sure  about  being  alone. 
But  as  he  was  growing  lonesome  and  was  hesitating  in  his 
mind  whether  he  ought  to  return  to  the  farmstead  or  remain 
where  he  was,  a  lone  duck,  one  of  his  own  race  which  had 
her  wing  injured  by  a  stray  shot  and  so  was  left  behind 
by  the  flock  but  had  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  able  to 
fly  again,  chanced  to  light  in  this  pond,  and  this  settled  the 
matter.  Both  were  overjoyed  at  the  meeting.  For  two  or 
three  days  they  remained  in  the  vicinity,  every  day  Johnnie 
Greenhead  learning  more  wisdom  from  his  new  found 
friend.  Finally,  both  growing  more  strong  of  wing  and 
sure  of  themselves,  Johnnie  permitted  himself  to  be  led,  as 


62       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

every  wild  husband  does,  by  his  bride,  in  search  of  a  nesting 
place.  Out  into  the  open  blue  they  flew,  mounting  higher 
and  higher  until  they  were  well  above  the  range  of  the 
best  guns,  and  then  through  the  biting  cold  air  on  their 
journey  northward.  With  a  speed  that  would  carry 
them  many  a  mile  every  hour,  it  did  not  require  long 
to  bring  them  to  the  lakes  and  marshes,  where  his  wife 
informed  him  they  were  to  stay  for  the  summer.  Already 
they  were  two  weeks  behind  time,  so  without  many  prelimi- 
naries they  established  a  home  on  a  point  that  projected 
into  a  shallow  marsh  lake.  The  female  wallowed  a  hole 
in  the  ground  among  the  tops  of  a  fallen  tree,  carefully 
lined  it  with  grass  and  with  down  plucked  from  her  own 
breast,  and  soon  a  new  pearl  was  being  added  every  day  to 
the  treasure  trove  it  contained. 

Others  of  their  race  were  nesting  at  different  points 
around  this  lake,  and  it  was  from  these  companions  that 
Johnnie  learned  much  of  his  wisdom.  In  the  farmyard 
he  had  learned  to  fear  nothing  except  being  caught  on 
picking  day.  Even  there  he  had  learned  that  if  he  could 
escape  from  the  flock  and  manage  to  hide  under  the  straw 
in  the  old  straw  pile  or  to  creep  into  the  dried  leaves  caught 
by  an  old  brush  pile  whenever  any  one  attempted  to  drive 
the  flock  into  the  barn,  he  could  escape;  and  when  the 
picking  was  over  he  might  return  to  the  flock  in  safety, 
for  the  mistress  would  not  go  to  the  trouble  to  catch  and 
pick  only  one  duck. 

He  had  learned  that  when  a  dog  comes  about,  one  is 
pretty  sure  to  be  safe  if  he  pays  no  attention  to  it,  for  then 
the  dog  takes  it  for  granted  that  he  belongs  where  he  is; 
but  he  had  had  no  experience  with  wolves,  the  wild  dogs  of 
the  forests.  One  day  a  wolf  wandered  by  where  Johnnie 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  53 

was  feeding  and  when  his  mate  hastily  swam  into  the  deep 
water,  Johnnie  totally  ignored  his  presence  as  he  had 
learned  to  do  to  a  dog  in  the  farmyard.  He  did  not  realize 
his  mistake  until  the  wolf  sprung  for  him,  but  luck  was 
with  him.  The  creature  fell  just  short  of  the  mark  and 
Johnnie  escaped  with  the  loss  of  only  a  handful  of  feathers. 
All  of  his  hatred  of  being  picked  now  centered  around  the 
sight  and  smell  of  a  wolf.  Never  again  would  he  sit  still 
and  allow  such  a  creature  to  approach. 

When  there  were  ten  eggs  in  the  nest,  Mrs.  Johnnie 
began  to  sit.  Now  Johnnie  was  disconsolate.  In  the  farm- 
yard the  ducks  never  hatched  their  own  eggs  and  to  be  left 
alone  was  a  new  experience.  For  two  or  three  days  he 
stood  about  the  nest  or  paddled  about  in  the  water  near 
by.  His  mate,  after  carefully  covering  her  eggs  with  down 
and  grass,  left  the  nest  for  a  few  moments  every  day  to 
feed,  but  then  she  was  too  preoccupied  to  be  a  good  com- 
panion. When  one  fortunate  morning  he  learned  that  there 
was  a  drake's  club  organized  by  the  heads  of  the  mallard 
families  in  the  neighborhood  who  found  themselves  in  the 
same  fix  he  was,  he  joined  at  once.  He  quickly  fell  into 
their  way  of  making  this  one  long  gala  day,  visiting  every 
nook  on  the  lake  and  feeding  to  the  full.  From  them  he 
learned  to  dive  to  escape  from  hawks  and  to  dash  into 
the  first  brush  possible  when  pursued  in  the  air.  He 
saw  a  companion  which  could  find  no  cover  when  pur- 
sued, overtaken  by  a  hawk  that  tore  his  throat  open  and 
carried  him  away  lifeless.  His  wife,  however,  did  not  feel 
slighted  by  his  absence,  for  she  felt  much  safer  alone  while 
sitting,  for  then  she  could  crouch  in  the  grass  which  exactly 
matched  her  color  and  not  be  seen.  Anyway,  he  soon  lost 
so  many  feathers  that  he  could  not  fly  for  two  weeks  or 


5*      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

more,  so  he  would  have  been  only  a  source  of  worry  had  he 
stayed  about  home.  His  wife,  because  of  sitting,  escaped 
this  midsummer  molt. 

But  when,  in  twenty  eight  days,  his  wife  led  ten 
ducklings  to  the  water's  edge,  Johnnie's  cup  of  happiness 
was  full  to  the  brim.  Perhaps  because  of  his  train- 
ing on  the  farm,  he  joined  her  at  once  and  together 
they  swam  away  through  the  reeds  and  rushes  bent  on 
finding  the  best  feeding  grounds  for  the  youngsters.  An 
old  hawk  that  was  nesting  in  a  great  tree  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  lake  had  been  watching  for  some  days  for  just  such 
an  event,  and  her  keen  eye  caught  sight  of  the  procession  as 
it  swam  down  the  lake.  With  a  cry  of  exultation  she  flew 
toward  them,  feeling  confident  she  was  soon  to  dine  on 
warm  duck.  The  mother  duck  had  been  trained  from 
babyhood  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  danger  on  every  hand 
and  she  saw  the  danger  approaching  first  and  with  a  sharp 
"quack,  quack"  of  warning  to  the  little  ones,  who  led  by  that 
strange  instinct  that  tells  the  wildling  what  to  do  as  soon  as 
he  is  out  of  the  egg,  scurried  away  to  hide  under  the  bushes. 
Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  Johnnie  followed  and  from 
his  hiding  place  saw  the  great  hawk  swoop  down  to  catch 
his  beloved  mate.  She  was  on  the  alert  and  just  as  the 
hawk  was  within  an  ace  of  striking  her,  she  struck  the  water 
with  her  wings  and  threw  up  a  shower  of  water,  deluging 
him  and  disappeared  beneath  the  water  to  come  up  a  hun- 
dred feet  away  ready  to  renew  the  struggle  when  the  hawk 
struck  again.  After  this  was  repeated  three  or  four  times 
and  the  wild  mother  felt  sure  the  bewildered  hawk  had  lost 
all  thought  of  the  family,  she  dived  and  came  up  in  a 
clump  of  cat-tails  out  of  sight  of  the  hawk.  The  baffled  hawk 
flew  back  to  his  lookout  at  the  upper  end  of  the  lake  and 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  55 

the  mother  duck  rejoined  the  family.  Then  keeping  under 
the  shadow  of  the  bank,  she  swam  around  the  bend  out  of 
sight  and  quietly  resumed  feeding. 

But  hawks  were  not  the  only  enemies  against  whom  these 
mallards  had  to  contend.  One  day  the  mother  duck 
swam  out  into  the  deep  water  and  part  of  the  babies  fol- 
lowed her.  Suddenly  there  was  a  lurch  and  a  splash  and 
one  of  the  ducklings  disappeared  down  the  throat  of  a 
mighty  pickerel  who  had  been  sleeping  in  the  deep  below. 
She  got  her  family  into  the  shallows  among  the  reeds 
and  rushes  as  quickly  as  possible.  Not  for  three  weeks 
did  she  again  dare  to  cross  this  deep,  and  by  that  time  the 
ducklings  were  too  large  for  a  fish  to  eat. 

Those  weeks  while  the  ducklings  were  small  enough  to- 
be  eaten  by  large  fish  were  full  of  anxiety  to  the  mallard 
family.  So  long  as  they  remained  concealed  in  the  rushes 
they  were  safe  from  hawks;  but  several  times  a  wandering 
coyote  came  near,  and  the  sure  danger  that  could  be  seen 
caused  them  to  forget  the  danger  that  was  not  seen  and 
the  flock  scurried  into  the  middle  of  the  lake.  This  was 
precisely  what  the  old  hawk  was  looking  for;  and  twice 
she  carried  away  one  of  the  ducklings,  and  a  fish  accounted 
for  another. 

The  nights  were  even  more  to  be  dreaded.  It  was  unsafe 
for  the  flock  to  roost  in  the  middle  of  the  lake,  for  the 
large  fish  are  much  more  active  at  night  than  by  day.  On 
the  other  hand  several  coons  and  mink  hunted  the  shores 
of  the  lake  every  night,  and  every  one  of  these  animals  liked 
nothing  better  than  duck,  young  or  old,  and  would  not 
hesitate  to  swim  half  way  across  the  lake  if  need  be  to 
secure  it.  Had  it  not  been  that  there  were  a  dozen  other 
families  of  ducks  on  the  shore  of  the  same  lake,  and  had 


66       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

there  not  been  an  abundance  of  fish  for  the  mink,  of  craw- 
fish for  the  coons,  and  of  frogs  for  both,  no  doubt  there 
would  have  been  none  of  Johnnie's  children  left  by  the 
time  they  were  a  month  old.  As  it  was  a  mink  got  two  and 
a  coon  one  before  they  were  large  enough  to  roost  with 
safety  in  the  middle  of  the  lake,  and  it  was  a  happy  time 
for  Johnnie  Greenhead  and  his  spouse  when  at  the  age  of 
six  weeks  their  remaining  family  were  able  to  fly,  for  now 
they  were  not  only  able  to  escape  from  their  four-legged 
enemies  by  flight,  but  were  on  a  more  nearly  equal  footing 
with  the  duck  hawks.. 

Every  dawn  they  flew  away  from  the  lake  and  surveyed 
the  surrounding  country,  sometimes  swimming  or  feeding 
in  one  of  the  many  lakes  of  the  vicinity.  According  to 
the  traditions  of  their  race,  the  parents  taught  their  family 
to  rise  high  at  once  on  taking  flight  and  to  fly  above  the 
range  of  a  shotgun.  Moreover,  they  taught  the  equally  im- 
portant habit  of  circling  over  a  place  and  examining  it 
carefully  before  alighting.  Their  excursions  led  them  far- 
ther and  farther  away  until  they  were  well  acquainted  with 
all  the  country  for  many  miles  about. 

One  dawn,  while  flying  over  a  small  pond  near  a  cabin, 
they  saw  some  objects  in  the  water  that  looked  like 
ducks.  Forgetting  their  usual  caution  they  settled,  almost 
to  the  water's  edge,  when  there  was  a  flash  and  a  deaf- 
ening noise  and  Johnnie  and  several  of  his  family  felt 
the  sting  of  shot  in  their  flesh.  Fortunately  the  shot 
were  small  and  the  ducks  were  at  the  opposite  of  the 
pond.  None  were  killed,  but  for  days  they  were  sore. 
Johnnie  had  learned  the  lesson  of  decoys,  a  lesson  most 
ducks  never  learn,  and  never  again  would  he  make 
the  mistake  of  alighting  without  carefully  examining 


JOHNNIE  GREENHEAD  57 

every  inch  of  the  ground,  even  tho  other  ducks  were 
there. 

Soon  this  little  family  were  joined  by  a  flock  of  ten 
youngsters  whose  parents  had  been  caught  by  the  old 
hawk  at  the  head  of  the  lake.  Autumn  was  here  and  the 
wild  rice  was  ripening  everywhere.  Then  for  hours  they 
would  swim  among  the  wild  rice,  securely  hidden  from 
their  enemies,  and  reaching  up  they  would  let  the  ripe 
grain  literally  run  down  their  throats  until  they  could  hold 
no  more;  or  if  fancy  directed,  they  would  suddenly  poke 
their  sensitive  bills  deep  into  the  mud,  turn  their  tails 
straight  up,  and  feel  about  for  small  animal  life  or  sweet 
roots.  Tho  these  ducks  are  practically  vegetarians,  they 
sometimes  vary  their  diet  by  eating  some  of  the  small  life 
that  crawls  on  the  bottom  of  shallow  ponds.  When  fed 
to  the  full  they  became  happy  and  spent  much  time  in 
noisy  clamor  or  in  half  running,  half  flying,  diving  and 
splashing  about  in  high  glee,  for  mallards  are  the  most 
playful  of  ducks;  but  always  one  of  the  parents  stood 
guard  against  possible  danger. 

Finally  winter  came  and  froze  the  lake  and  covered  the 
wild  rice  with  snow.  The  teals,  among  other  birds,  had 
long  since  departed  for  the  Southland.  But  not  until  grim 
necessity  required  did  Mrs.  Johnnie  announce  the  time  of 
departure  for  the  South.  When  they  passed  over  the  old 
home  Johnnie  wanted  to  stop.  In  fact,  they  did  settle  in 
the  brook  by  the  old  grape  arbor,  the  only  ducks  I  ever 
knew  to  alight  on  the  farm.  The  boy  was  in  the  grove 
and  slipped  up  behind  the  wild  gooseberry  bush  to  watch. 
There  was  Johnnie,  easily  recognized  by  his  large  size, 
with  his  family.  All  seemed  perfectly  at  home  save 
one  old  duck,  doubtless  the  mother.  She  could  not  share 


58       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Johnnie's  feeling  of  security,  for  she  had  not  been  raised 
there. 

The  boy,  in  his  interest,  leaned  out  too  far  and  this 
mother  saw  him.  "Quack,  quack,"  clear  and  sharp  as  a 
bugle's  blast,  and  the  flock  rose  like  a  flash  and  were  gone ! 
Tracks  about  the  corn  pen  showed,  however,  that  Johnnie 
brought  his  family  home  once  more  that  night  to  feed  at 
his  favorite  dining  place  before  they  departed  into  the 
great  unknown. 


IX 

JIMMY  THE  GOOSE 

ONE  day  late  in  April  the  boy  saw  a  flock  of  geese 
settle  in  the  pond  in  the  large  woods  pasture  not 
far  from  the  river.  This  particular  flock  of  geese  had  been 
late  in  starting  north,  and  as  the  farmers  were  already 
busy  putting  in  their  crops,  they  were  not  bothered.  The 
boy  alone  knew  of  their  arrival.  As  he  watched  them  day 
after  day  from  his  hiding  place  in  the  bushes,  he  began 
hoping  they  might  stay  all  summer.  He  had  no  gun  and 
was  careful  not  to  tell  any  one  else  of  their  presence. 

Every  morning  the  members  of  the  flock  showed  great 
impatience  with  the  leader  because  she  persisted  in  stay- 
ing about  this  pond;  but  as  food  was  plenty  and  the  days 
were  pleasant,  by  the  time  she  was  ready  to  lead  them  to 
the  nearby  feeding  grounds  they  had  quite  forgotten  their 
impatience  and  were  glad  to  spend  another  day  in  the 
green  wheat  field  beyond  the  woods.  Before  the  end  of  the 
week  one  old  goose  and  her  gander  had  decided  to  remain 
for  the  summer.  After  investigating  every  clump  of  bushes 
and  brushpile  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  pond,  a  place 
was  selected  under  some  bushes  in  the  corner  of  a  rail 
fence  enclosing  the  pasture.  A  depression  was  wallowed 
out  in  the  earth  and  a  little  grass  piled  in  it.  When  this 
was  lined  with  down  and  feathers  it  constituted  the  nest. 

When  three  or  four  days  later  the  homesickness  of  the 
leader  of  the  flock  who  had  been  hatched  here  was  some- 

59 


60      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

what  abated,  and  he  decided  it  was  time  to  hie  away  to 
the  northern  breeding  grounds,  two  eggs  had  already  been 
laid  in  this  nest,  and  of  course  no  mother  would  leave  her 
prospective  family,  so  this  pair  stayed.  When  there  were 
six  eggs  in  the  nest,  the  boy  told  his  secret  to  his  mother, 
who  promptly  removed  them  and  placed  them  under  a 
sitting  hen  in  the  chicken  house.  Realizing  at  last  that 
a  mistake  had  been  made,  the  pair  of  geese  followed  the 
call  of  the  north,  and  built  their  second  nest  on  the  banks 
of  some  lake  in  northern  Minnesota  or  Southern  Canada; 
but  the  boy  had  their  eggs  and  thirty  days  later  they 
hatched  into  six  fuzzy  brown  goslings.  For  a  day  or  two 
these  young  goslings  were  exceedingly  shy,  but  as  the  only 
thing  they  ever  received  from  the  hands  of  man  was  plenty 
of  food  and  tender  care,  before  long  they  were  as  tame  as 
any  domestic  goose  could  be  expected  to  be. 

The  summer  passed  uneventfully,  four  of  the  goslings 
growing  into  adult  geese.  All  fall  and  winter  they  were 
contented  to  swim  in  the  pond,  or:  to  sit  about  the  barn 
lot  eating  corn  from  the  crib  and  clover  hay  from  the 
stable;  but  when  the  call  of  the  north  brought  the  wild 
geese  honking  northward  the  next  spring,  these  geese 
would  answer  every  flock  that  passed  over.  One  morning 
in  March  three  of  these  geese  could  stand  it  no  longer,  and 
took  wing  and  joined  a  flock  that  was  passing  over.  Jimmy 
by  some  mishap  or  good  fortune,  according  to  whose  view- 
point you  take,  happened  to  be  in  the  corn  crib  at  the 
time,  and  the  door  had  been  blown  shut.  When  he  heard 
the  commotion  and  realized  that  his  mates  were  leaving, 
his  loud  cries  of  protest  filled  the  air,  for  he  wished  to 
go  along.  The  boy,  when  he  heard  the  unusual  honking, 
came  out  of  the  house  just  in  time  to  see  his  pets  depart- 


JIMMY  THE  GOOSE  61 

ing.  At  the  suggestion  of  his  mother  he  cropped  Jimmy's 
wings  before  letting  him  out  of  the  crib. 

Jimmy  was  forlorn  for  days,  but  finally  made  up  for  his 
misfortune  by  hanging  about  the  house  and  making  friends 
with  the  good  mother.  When  she  sat  by  the  window  sew- 
ing, Jimmy  was  quite  sure  to  station  himself  on  the  out- 
side. He  would  sometimes  sit  for  hours  just  outside  the 
window,  watching  her  as  she  was  about  her  work.  She 
had  the  habit  of  tapping  on  the  window  to  call  Jimmy 
when  she  was  ready  to  feed  him.  In  time  he  associated  tap- 
ping on  the  window  with  food,  and  from  that  time,  when 
he  wished  to  be  fed,  he  would  come  to  the  window  and  tap, 
tap,  tap  with  his  bill  until  the  desired  food  came. 

There  was  an  old  lady  in  the  neighborhood  who  always 
raised  a  large  flock  of  geese  and  sold  feathers.  For  years 
she  had  believed  that  if  she  could  get  a  strain  of  half-breed 
wild  geese  she  would  not  only  secure  more  feathers,  but 
when  selling  time  came  she  might  be  able  to  sell  the  birds 
as  wild  geese  for  a  high  price.  Accordingly  she  would  not 
be  satisfied  until  she  owned  Jimmy. 

Aunt  Leah  possessed  a  donkey  as  well  as  her  geese. 
Jimmy  took  no  interest  in  her  geese  at  all,  but  stayed  by 
himself  in  the  donkey's  pasture.  At  first  he  was  furious 
every  time  the  donkey  would  bray,  and  the  donkey  resented 
Jimmy's  noise  every  time  Jimmy  grew  lonesome  and 
honked.  Sometimes  the  donkey  would  try  to  stamp  on 
Jimmy,  but  he  was  too  quick  for  her,  and  it  usually  ended 
by  the  donkey  whirling  to  kick  at  Jimmy,  who  would 
grasp  her  by  the  tail  and  pound  her  with  his  wings.  Often 
he  would  chase  her  all  over  the  pasture  in  this  way.  But 
both  were  lonesome  and  in  time  grew  to  be  the  closest  of 
friends.  Wherever  you  saw  the  one  the  other  was  sure  to 


62       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

be.  Jimmy  and  the  donkey  fed  together  and  slept  together 
a  whole  year.  In  cold  weather  when  the  donkey  found  a 
protected  place  to  lie,  Jimmy  sat  at  her  side  or  even 
warmed  his  feet  by  sitting  on  her  woolly  coat. 

Eemembering  the  experience  of  the  first  spring,  Jimmy's 
wing  was  cropped  every  year  early  in  February,  lest  he 
leave  when  his  own  kind  began  to  come  north. 

A  new  source  of  unhappiness  came  into  Jimmy's  life 
when  the  donkey  was  sold  and  taken  to  Nebraska  to  work 
at  plowing.  Jimmy  was  utterly  disconsolate  for  a  few 
days,  and  wandered  over  the  pasture  all  day  long,  honking 
from  sheer  loneliness.  One  evening  a  flock  of  geese  heard 
him  and  spent  the  night  with  him  eating  the  young  ten- 
der blue-grass.  When  they  left  shortly  after  sun-up,  poor 
Jimmy  tried  his  best  to  go  along,  but  his  poor  cropped 
wing  would  not  permit.  After  this,  never  a  honking  flock 
passed  over  in  his  hearing  that  he  did  not  spread  his 
wings  and  try  to  follow. 

One  day  Aunt  Leah  bought  two  buxom  young  gray  geese 
and  brought  them  home.  They  were  not  adopted  by  the 
flock  but  soon  got  over  into  what  had  been  the  donkey 
pasture.  In  vain  Jimmy  had  tried  for  days  to  find  his 
beloved  donkey.  When  his  own  kind  had  stopped  with 
him,  he  had  spent  one  blissful  night  dreaming  of  cool 
lakes,  succulent  food,  and  a  flock  of  goslings  in  the  far 
north.  But  something  was  wrong;  try  as  he  would,  he 
could  not  rise  high  in  the  air,  and  at  best  could  fly  only 
in  short  circles  and  tumble  to  the  ground.  Every  day  he 
tried,  always  hoping  that  when  the  next  flock  passed  over 
he  could  join  them,  but  already  the  maples  were  coming 
into  leaf  and  no  more  wild  geese  were  going  by. 

Seeing  these  homesick  strangers  wander  into  his  realm, 


JIMMY  THE  GOOSE  63 

his  heart  went  out  to  them.  His  decision  was  quickly 
made.  He  ran  to  them  with  a  cry  of  welcome.  The  attrac- 
tion seemed  mutual  so  he  mated  with  both,  and  then  was 
perfectly  contented  to  remain  on  the  farm  and  finally  to 
run  with  the  flock.  For  several  years  he  lived  the  life 
of  a  domestic  goose,  and  Aunt  Leah,  feeling  sure  that  he 
would  not  leave  his  humble  mates,  never  afterward  went 
to  the  trouble  of  cropping  his  wing.  He  became  the  father 
of  many  hybrid  geese  that  at  first  were  the  joy  of  Aunt 
Leah's  heart,  but  when  she  found  that  they  were  mules 
and  would  not  breed,  her  interest  waned.  True,  they  were 
handsome  geese,  larger  than  either  parent.  They  had  the 
beautiful  black  head  and  upper  neck  of  the  Canada  wild 
goose  with  a  larger  and  heavier  body.  Their  feathers  were 
flexible  and  thick  like  those  of  their  wild  parent,  with  an 
abundance  of  down — just  the  kind  of  feathers  to  delight  a 
feather  merchant.  Nevertheless  finally  they  were  all  sold 
to  the  butcher,  and  poor  unfortunate  Jimmy  was  placed 
in  a  city  park  where  he  remained,  apparently  desolate,  the 
last  I  heard  of  him. 

You  may  be  interested  to  know  more  about  Jimmy's 
relatives.  We  have  several  species  of  wild  geese  in  our 
country.  Jimmy  was  a  Canada  wild  goose.  Those  geese 
are  especially  characterized  by  the  fact  thart  the  upper 
part  of  the  neck  and  the  head  are  black  with  large  white 
cheek  patches.  They  are  active  birds  and  fly  long  dis- 
tances, often  flying  fifty  or  sixty  miles  in  an  hour.  They 
still  breed  by  the  thousands  in  some  parts  of  the  North- 
land. When  I  was  a  boy  I  have  seen  them  in  huge  flocks, 
especially  on  the  Eepublican  and  Platte  rivers  in  Nebraska. 
In  our  old  home  in  southeastern  Iowa  it  was  a  common 
thing  for  these  birds  to  alight  in  the  wheat  or  cornfields 


64       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

to  feed,  and  they  often  spent  the  entire  winter  on  the 
Skunk  river,  roosting  wherever  they  could  find  an  open 
place  in  the  ice,  flying  back  and  forth  from  the  fields  to 
the  river  every  day.  They  usually  did  their  feeding  in 
the  late  evening  or  the  early  morning,  leaving  the  corn- 
fields soon  after  dawn.  When  flying  they  form  a  V-- 
shaped line,  the  same  bird  usually  flying  at  the  point 
of  the  V  and  leading  the  flock. 

Often  they  are  hatched  and  kept  on  the  farm  for  years, 
but  they  do  not  breed  well  in  captivity,  tho  sometimes  they 
become  really  domesticated.  It  is  wise,  however,  to  keep  a 
wing  cropped  to  prevent  them  from  leaving  in  the  early 
spring  or  fall.  Like  all  of  the  geese,  in  the  summer  they 
feed  largely  on  grass,  snails,  crawfish,  and  such  things  as 
they  can  get  at  the  edges  of  the  ponds,  but  in  winter  they 
depend  largely  on  seeds  and  grains.  Very  few  of  them 
now  breed  in  the  United  States,  except  in  the  Yellow- 
stone National  Park,  where  they  are  protected,  and  in  a 
few  other  localities;  and  if  their  breeding  places  are 
crowded  farther  north,  they  may  become  extinct  in  our 
country. 


X 

KADY  JANE  THE  SWAN 

THE  warm  south  wind  has  been  blowing  now  and 
again  for  weeks,  and  already  the  snow  was  gone  ex- 
cept a  few  great  drifts  in  the  north  side  of  the  woods  near 
the  creek.  Claytonias,  anemones,  and  bloodroot  were  vie- 
ing  with  each  other  to  see  which  could  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  earliest  bees.  Robins  and  bluebirds  had  come 
trooping  north  in  untold  thousands,  and  every  few  min- 
utes the  boy  playing  in  the  yard  would  hear  the  honk, 
honk,  of  wild  geese  and  a  long  V-shaped  line  would  come 
in  sight  on  the  southern  sky,  soon  to  fade  away  in  the 
north,  while  wild  ducks  were  seldom  out  of  sight  more  than 
a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  The  country  was  quite  thickly 
populated,  and  most  of  the  water  fowl,  growing  wise,  had 
decided  to  go  on  to  the  lakes  of  Northern  Iowa  and  Min- 
nesota in  search  of  new  nesting  grounds.  Already  the 
trumpeter  swan  had  begun  to  be  so  scarce  as  to  attract 
attention  whenever  a  flock  passed  over. 

A  few  miles  north  of  the  forks  of  Skunk  River  was  a 
pond  which  at  high  water  covered  several  thousands  of 
acres  and  even  in  the  middle  of  the  summer  was  more  than 
a  mile  across.  This  pond,  known  locally  as  Holmes  Lake, 
was  never  deep  even  in  the  middle,  and  over  much  of  it 
a  man  in  high  top  wading  boots  could  safely  wade.  Sweet 

65 


66      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

flag,  rushes,  and  cat-tails  lined  the  shore  and  here  myriads 
of  minnows  and  pollywogs  played  or  hid  under  sunken 
logs  or  clumps  of  broken  reeds.  The  nearest  farms  were 
two  or  three  miles  away,  and  so  it  is  small  wonder  that 
some  of  the  bolder  of  the  water  fowl  hesitated  to  desert 
so  ideal  a  home  for  unexplored  regions  beyond. 

Suddenly  the  boy  was  attracted  by  a  loud  clear  trumpet 
call  like  the  blast  of  a  French  horn,  and  almost  at  the 
same  time  a  voice  was  heard  crying  "swans."  Soon  he 
saw  a  dim  line  approaching  which  gradually  broke  into 
twenty  large  birds  with  long  necks  stretched  far  ahead 
and  legs  sticking  back  beyond  the  tail.  Even  tho 
they  were  high  in  the  air,  they  flashed  white  as  snow  in 
the  sunlight.  The  boy  did  not  have  long  to  watch  so  novel 
&  sight,  for  the  giant  birds  flapped  their  wings  with  a 
steady  beat  that  carried  them  many  miles  an  hour.  It 
was  not  many  days  until  the  rumor  went  around  the  neigh- 
borhood that  a  flock  of  twenty  swans  was  hanging  about 
Holmes  Lake.  Every  hunter  in  the  neighborhood  rubbed 
up  his  old  gun,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  tramped  many 
a  weary  mile  in  hopes  of  gaining  the  fame  of  killing  a 
swan.  But  these  birds  were  no  novices.  Years  of  experi- 
ence had  taught  them  wisdom,  and  when  corn  planting  time 
came  and  the  hunters  had  to  turn  farmer  no  hunter  could 
boast  of  a  single  trophy. 

As  the  days  passed,  one  pair  after  another  of  these 
swans  grew  restless  and,  when  they  could  not  get  the  flock 
to  go,  quietly  slipped  away  into  the  northern  sky.  At 
last  only  two  pairs  were  left,  but  they  refused  to  leave  so 
delightful  a  feeding  ground. 

At  some  distance  from  the  shore  was  a  small  island, 
with  just  a  few  scrubby  bushes  growing  on  its  banks.  After 


JANE  THE  SWAN  67 

much  consultation  a  pair  of  swana  wallowed  a  shallow  de- 
pression in  the  earth  under  one  of  these  hushes,  lined  it 
with  rushes,  weeds,  and  grass,  and  inside  this  huilt  a  nest 
of  softest  down  plucked  from  the  mother's  own  body.  Here 
was  deposited  a  great  white  egg  larger  than  the  largest 
goose  egg.  The  next  day  the  other  pair  set  up  house- 
keeping under  a  bush  not  ten  feet  away.  Every  other 
day  the  mother  swans  laid  an  egg  until  there  were  eight  in 
each  nest,  when  they  settled  down  to  brood  their  eggs.  For 
thirty  days  the  mothers  spent  most  of  their  time  sitting  on 
the  nest  dreaming  the  dreams  of  any  normal  mother,  slip- 
ping off  only  for  a  short  time  every  day  to  gather  a 
hasty  meal  from  the  steaming  waters,  while  their  discon- 
solate mates  spent  much  of  the  time  loitering  about  look- 
ing like  a  married  man  in  a  department  store  on  bargain 
day. 

Tho  the  mother  left  the  nest  for  only  a  few  minutes, 
she  always  saw  to  it  that  the  eggs  were  covered  with  down 
to  keep  them  warm  and  that  enough  grass  and  reeds  were 
scattered  over  all  so  to  make  the  nest  look  like  any  other 
spot  on  the  island;  for  she  weH  knew  that  when  a  wild- 
ling  leaves  her  nest  there  is  no  knowing  how  long  she 
may  be  compelled  to  delay  her  return,  and  there  is  no 
telling  what  prowling  thief  may  visit  the  spot  in  her 
absence. 

One  day  early  in  May  Dad  Oswalt,  as  he  was  riding 
past  the  lake,  was  surprized  to  see  a  swan  fly  out  of  the 
tall  rushes  and  a  number  of  fluffy  balls  of  down  scurry  to 
cover  as  fast  as  their  little  legs  could  paddle  over  the 
water.  He  had  no  time  to  stop,  but  registered  a  vow  that 
he  would  realize  a  lifetime  ambition  of  owning  a  pet 
swan.  Not  many  days  afterward  he  took  the  boy  and  rode 


68       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

over  to  Holmes  Lake.  Quietly  slipping  through  the  bushes, 
they  came  upon  the  shore  unexpectedly,  and  sure  enough 
there  were  four  old  swans  and  a  dozen  young,  leisurely 
feeding  near  the  bank.  A  swan  would  thrust  its  long 
neck  full  length  under  the  water  and  strip  off  the  tender 
shoots  on  the  rushes  and  flags,  or  catch  insects,  pollywogs, 
snails,  or  any  other  eatable  thing  that  came  handy.  It 
was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  a  great  white  bird  thrust  its  long 
neck  under  the  water  and  stand  with  its  tail  in  the  air 
with  bubbles  coming  up  every  few  moments  showing  where 
it  was  feeding.  First  one  foot  and  then  the  other  would 
paddle  a  bit  to  help  the  bird  keep  its  balance  or  to  hold 
it  under  the  water.  Dad  did  not  want  to  shoot  any  of  the 
birds  and  had  no  canoe.  He  had  hoped  to  catch  the  birds 
feeding  on  the  land  and  by  a  bold  rush  secure  some  of 
the  young  before  they  could  get  into  the  water,  but  altho 
he  and  the  boy  spent  most  of  the  day  hiding  about  the 
lake,  the  swans,  led  by  that  good  spirit  which  protects  the 
wildling,  kept  well  away  from  the  shore. 

One  thing  occurred,  however,  which  interested  the  boy 
greatly.  Along  in  the  early  afternoon  a  great  snapping 
turtle,  quietly  slipped  off  a  log  and  started  swimming 
toward  the  swans.  Both  Dad  and  the  boy  watched  intent- 
ly. Quietly  it  moved  with  only  its  head  sticking  above  the 
water  until  within  perhaps  twenty  feet  of  the  happy  family. 
Then  it  settled  down  till  only  the  tip  of  its  nose  could  be 
seen.  Stealthily  it  moved  forward  till  within  five  or  six 
feet,  when  it  disappeared.  In  a  moment  a  young  swan 
gave  a  flop  and  a  squawk  and  disappeared  under  the  water. 
The  wily  old  turtle  had  risen  from  beneath  and  catching 
him  by  one  foot  had  settled  to  the  bottom,  pulling  the 
poor  bird  under,  allowing  the  water  to  finish  the  story. 


THE   TRUMPETER  SWAN 


LADY  JANE  THE  SWAN  69 

When  the  swan  was  drowned  the  turtle  could  feast  at  lei- 
sure. 

Very  many  young  wild  geese,  ducks,  and  other  water 
fowl  lose  their  lives  in  this  way  where  turtles  are  abun- 
dant. In  fact,  I  have  a  friend  near  Ruthven,  Iowa,  who 
decided  to  make  use  of  a  small  lake  near  his  house  by 
raising  ducks  by  the  hundreds,  expecting  the  ducks  to  live 
on  the  abundant  food  on  its  shores.  As  soon  as  his  young 
ducks  were  allowed  to  go  to  this  lake  the  turtles  began 
catching  them,  and  soon  had  caught  so  many  that  he 
gave  up  the  attempt  and  sold  the  few  remaining  duck- 
lings. 

Early  in  the  fall,  Dad  Oswalt  came  back  to  the  lake  de- 
termined to  get  a  young  swan.  They  were  just  learning  to 
fly.  After  trying  in  vain  to  catch  one,  he  finally  shot  it  in 
the  wing  and  it  fell  some  distance  from  the  lake.  It  was 
injured  badly  enough  so  that  it  could  not  fly;  but  when 
he  tried  to  catch  it,  he  found  that  he  had  a  real  battle  on 
his  hands.  Even  a  young  swan  will  weigh  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  pounds,  and  its  wings  are  quite  powerful.  The 
swan  put  up  a  terrific  fight,  biting  and  pounding  with  its 
wings  until  Dad  feared  he  would  have  to  kill  it  afi^r  all. 
Bruised  and  bleeding,  he  finally  subdued  the  bird,  and 
tying  its  wings  over  its  back,  took  it  home.  Binding  up 
the  broken  wingf  with  a  splint  he  placed  it  in  a  pen  and  fed 
it  as  one  would  a  goose  or  a  duck. 

Those  who  have  never  seen  a  young  swan  doubtless  do 
not  realize  that  they  are  not  the  beautiful,  white  bird  we 
often  see  gliding  over  the  lakes  in  our  city  parks.  A  young 
swan  is  not  white  at  all,  but  an  ugly  brown,  and  a  young 
trumpeter  swan  remains  that  color  until  it  is  almost  a  year 
old.  That  explains  why  the  young  can  so  quickly  disap- 


70      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

pear  among  the  rushes  and  cat-tails  in  the  lake,  for  even 
before  they  are  feathered  they  have  that  peculiar  dull  tint 
of  brown  that  blends  with  almost  everything  in  nature. 
This  saves  many  a  young  swan  from  being  caught  by  hawks 
or  coyotes.  The  coyote  has  a  keen  sense  of  smell  but  does 
not  locate  his  prey  by  this  means  alone.  When  a  young 
swan  is  down  wind  from  a  coyote  it  can  remain  among  the 
rushes  and  be  perfectly  safe  as  long  as  it  sits  quietly.  The 
old  swans  do  not  have  this  danger,  for  no  hawk  is  large 
enough  even  to  hope  to  kill  a  swan  and  a  coyote  must  be 
brave  indeed  to  make  the  attempt.  A  swan's  beak  is  ex- 
ceedingly powerful,  and,  driven  by  the  long  neck,  can 
strike  a  powerful  blow.  More  than  that,  the  wings  are  so 
strong  that  they  are  able  to  break  the  bones  of  even  a 
coyote  if  they  strike  him  squarely. 

Dad  Oswalt  named  his  swan  Lady  Jane.  Lady  Jane 
had  been  in  her  pen  only  a  few  days  when  Beaver,  a  six- 
months-old  pup  discovered  her  whereabouts.  Now  Beaver 
never  stopped  to  question  whether  this  young  swan  was 
an  intruder  or  not.  It  was  merely  something  new,  and 
even  tho  it  might  belong  to  the  master,  surely  it  would 
do  no  harm  to  have  a  little  fun  at  its  expense.  Accordingly 
he  jumped  into  the  pen  and  rushed  on  Lady  Jane  with 
the  full  intent  of  frightening  her  out  of  her  wits  and  having 
great  sport  wallowing  her  and  pulling  her  feathers,  as  he 
had  sometimes  done  with  a  chicken  in  the  barn  lot.  Sev- 
eral well  administered  lessons  had  taught  him  that  chick- 
ens were  not  to  be  bothered  in  this  way,  but  no  one  had 
said  that  he  must  not  play  with  a  swan.  He  would  take 
the  chance,  anyway.  Grandmother  saw  him  bound  into 
the  pen,  but  kept  out  of  sight  and  watched  to  see  what 
would  happen.  Lady  Jane  had  not  lived  on  an  island  and 


LADY;  JANE  THE  SWAN  71 

seen  her  mother  chase  off  the  coyotes  for  nothing.  She 
did  not  even  think  it  necessary  to  hiss  at  this  awkward 
puppy,  but  raising  herself  to  full  height  and  throwing  her 
head  well  back,  she  half  raised  her  wings  and  waited. 

Beaver  did  not  quite  like  the  turn  events  were  taking. 
He  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  she  would  run  as  soon 
as  he  came  near;  but  he  was  no  coward,  and  evidently  it 
would  be  necessary  to  teach  this  bird  a  lesson  in  manners, 
for  no  bird  had  the  right  to  consider  itself  above  fearing 
a  six-months-old  pup.  Hesitating  a  moment,  he  sprang 
straight  at  her,  meaning  to  catch  her  by  the  neck.  While 
he  was  in  mid-air  out  darted  the  long  neck,  driving  the 
hard  beak  full  into  his  face,  cutting  an  ugly  gash  and 
knocking  the  puppy  howling  to  the  ground.  The  swan 
was  not  willing  to  stop  here,  tho  the  puppy  would  have 
been  glad  to  call  it  enough.  Catching  him  by  the  back 
of  his  neck,  she  beat  him  with  her  wings  till  he  fairly 
howled  with  pain  and  fright. 

As  soon  as  he  could  get  free  the  thoroughly  frightened 
puppy  ran  howling  to  the  house.  Both  pup  and  swan 
had  learned  a  lesson.  Nevermore  would  the  pup  bother 
a  great  strange-looking  bird,  and  the  swan  knew  how  to 
fight  dogs. 

Lady  Jane  soon  became  so  gentle  that  she  was  allowed  the 
freedom  of  the  place.  She  seemed  to  feel  perfectly  at 
home,  and  seldom  showed  any  disposition  to  wander.  There 
was  a  small  pond  near  by  where  she  could  satisfy  her  ap- 
petite for  swimming  and  fishing,  and  there  was  plenty  of 
corn  about  the  stable.  What  more  could  a  swan  desire? 

She  soon  became  much  attached  to  the  master.  Even 
before  she  had  put  on  her  grown-up  plumage  she  followed 
him  wherever  he  went.  It  was  a  comical  sight  to  see  the 


72      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

old  man  get  on  Betsy,  his  racking  mare,  and  start  for 
town  with  the  swan  chasing  behind,  trumpeting  and  flap- 
ping her  wings.  The  bird  never  flew  in  order  to  keep  up, 
but  ran  behind  flapping  her  long  wings.  Sometimes  if  he 
rode  too  fast  she  would  catch  the  horse  by  the  tail  and 
hang  on,  flapping  her  wings,  and  touching  the  ground  only 
every  few  rods.  When  the  old  man  went  into  a  house  Lady 
Jane  had  to  content  herself  by  sitting  on  the  outside,  or,  as 
she  more  often  did,  by  waiting  at  the  side  of  Betsy,  and 
wo  betide  the  dog  who  dared  to  disturb  either.  More  than 
once  some  over-ambitious  dog,  attracted  by  the  novel  sight 
of  a  swan  following  a  man  on  horseback,  gave  chase.  But 
he  always  went  back  a  sadder  but  wiser  dog,  for  Lady  Jane 
looked  on  the  intrusion  as  a  personal  insult  which  she 
felt  in  duty  bound  to  avenge.  Strange  to  say,  never  once 
did  she  come  out  of  the  fracas  second  best,  for  no  dog 
ever  proved  quick  enough  to  dodge  her  lightning  beak 
or  to  escape  the  terrible  hammering  of  her  mighty  wings. 

As  spring  came  on  Lady  Jane  grew  apace.  When  fully 
grown,  she  weighed  over  forty  pounds  and  could  eat  corn  off 
the  brim  of  Dad  Oswalt's  hat  when  the  hat  was  on  his 
head,  and  Dad  Oswalt  was  a  man  six  feet  tall.  Now  she 
was  snow  white,  all  but  her  feet  and  legs  and  bill.  These 
were  black.  The  bill  is  longer  than  the  head,  and  is  flat 
like  that  of  a  goose  or  a  duck.  Yet  where  it  joins  the 
head  it  is  thicker  than  it  is  broad.  This  is  true  of  all 
swans. 

Lady  Jane  could  swim  faster  than  any  one  could  row  a 
boat  or  paddle  a  canoe.  She  seemed  to  like  to  race  in 
this  way,  always  managing  to  keep  out  of  reach  without 
getting  so  far  ahead  as  to  discourage  her  pursuers. 

As  spring  drew  on,  she  developed  a  desire  to  fly.     She 


LADY  JANE  THE  SWAN  78 

never  tried  to  rise  out  of  the  water  as  a  duck  would,  but 
ran  or  swam  forty  or  fifty  yards  in  the  wind,  flapping  her 
wings  before  finally  taking  the  air.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
this  great  bird  can  rise  into  the  air  without  this  prelim- 
inary run.  It  is  certain  Lady  Jane  never  did. 

When  the  wildliags  began  to  come  north,  Lady  Jane 
became  very  restless,  and  trumpeted  a  great  deal.  She 
would  take  long  flights,  but  by  sundown  was  always  sit- 
ting in  her  own  pond,  with  her  long  neck  curled  over  her 
Lack  with  just  her  black  bill  sticking  out  of  the  feathers — 
the  only  black  spot  on  a  ball  of  snow. 

One  morning,  just  at  sunrise,  all  were  startled  by  a 
regular  trumpet  concert.  Some  were  trumpets  as  heavy 
as  a  bass  horn,  others  were  as  shrill  as  a  flute,  and  there 
were  all  notes  in  between.  One  who  has  never  heard  such 
a  concert  can  scarcely  imagine  its  power.  These  swans 
can  trumpet  as  loud  as  a  professional  horn  player.  In 
fact,  their  voices  can  be  heard  for  two  or  three  miles. 

Peeping  out  of  the  window,  the  boy  saw  a  large  flock  of 
swans  sitting  in  the  pond.  They  had  doubtless  been  at- 
tracted by  Lady  Jane.  Immediately  a  gander  started  mak- 
ing love  to  her,  and  she  acted  perfectly  delighted  at  find- 
ing others  of  her  kind. 

The  flock  stayed  about  the  pond  most  of  the  forenoon. 
When  the  flock  left,  Lady  Jane  hesitated,  but  when  they 
circled  back  over  the  pond  calling,  she  finally  followed. 
!N"o  one  ever  again  saw  her  so  as  to  identify  her,  tho 
one  night  in  autumn  a  flock  of  swans  spent  the  night  in 
the  pond  where  she  had  lived  so  long  and  some  of  them 
helped  themselves  to  the  corn  in  the  crib. 

Of  course  you  have  already  guessed  that  swans  are 
web-footed  swimming  birds,  belonging  to  the  Anseres. 


74       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Their  sub-family  name  is  Cygnince.  The  trumpeter  swan 
is  now  almost  extinct  in  the  United  States.  One  day,  early 
in  March,  1920,  I  was  crossing  the  campus  of  the  Nash- 
ville Agricultural  Normal  Institute  at  Madison,  Tennes- 
see, when  I  was  startled  by  the  almost  forgotten  note  of 
this  bird.  Scanning  the  sky,  I  located  two  trumpeter 
swans.  They  came  almost  directly  over  my  head  and  passed 
out  of  sight  to  the  northwest.  They  seemed  almost  like 
phantom  birds,  echoes  from  the  dim  past.  I  have  often 
wondered  where  these  two  birds  came  from  and  where 
they  were  going.  Their  summer  feeding  grounds  changed, 
their  winter  feeding  grounds  no  longer  safe,  the  race  has 
all  but  given  up  the  struggle.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  these 
lone  wanderers  found  safety  in  some  place,  and  that  they 
may  live  long  and  become  the  progenitors  of  a  large  fam- 
ily, for  the  trumpeter  swan  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
of  our  many  valuable  birds. 

We  have  in  America  another  wild  swan  that  is  smaller 
than  the  trumpeter  swan.  It  is  known  as  the  whistling 
swan.  Many  of  the  swans  we  see  in  our  city  parks  are  of 
neither  kind,  but  are  of  European  origin. 


S3 

ffHE  SHITEPOKE 

OUR  home  farm  consisted  of  two  "eighties"  that  cor- 
nered each  other.  The  buildings  were  located  on  one, 
the  other  was  mostly  pasture.  Wymore's  Branch,  a  beau- 
tiful  little  creek  in  those  days,  cut  across  the  pasture 
"eighty,"  and  a  high  hill  rose  abruptly  from  this  creek  on 
one  side  while  the  other  side  was  a  low-lying  bottom.  A 
slough  ran  lengthwise  through  this  eighty,  meeting  the 
creek  just  before  it  left  the  farm.  There  was  a  very 
valuable  spring  in  this  slough  which  flowed  as  freely  in 
the  dry  time  as  it  did  in  wet  weather.  Near  the  place 
where  the  slough  ran  into  the  creek  was  an  acre  or  two  of 
land  that  was  usually  swampy  from  the  overflow  of  this 
spring.  The  creek  itself  was  deep  enough  to  be  the  fa- 
vorite fishing  place  of  the  small  boys  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  our  best  swimming  hole  was  just  at  the  lower  edge 
of  our  farm. 

We  usually  had  a  potato  patch  and  garden  truck  growing 
on  the  bottom  land  near  this  spring,  and  so  business  or 
pleasure  called  me  there  several  times  a  week  throughout 
the  summer.  Mother  and  I  used  to  take  our  lunch  and 
walk  down  to  this  garden  and  spend  the  day.  We  did 
plenty  of  work;  but,  wise  woman  that  she  was,  mother 
knew  that  the  way  to  get  plenty  of  work  out  of  a  small 

75 


76      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

boy  was  to  allow  him  a  play  time  as  well.  Consequently 
after  lunch  at  noon  we  often  went  down  to  the  creek  where 
mother  told  stories  of  the  wonders  of  her  childhood  days 
in  the  mountains  of  Tennessee. 

Sometimes  I  would  wade  down  the  creek  and  leave 
mother  sitting  on  the  bank.  It  was  on  one  such  occasion 
that  I  first  saw  what  to  me  was  the  queerest  looking  bird 
I  had  ever  seen.  About  fifty  feet  from  the  old  swimming 
hole  was  a  very  peculiar  knoll  about  forty  feet  in  diameter 
that  was  so  very  symmetrical  that  I  am  now  inclined  to 
think  it  was  a  mound  of  the  prehistoric  mound  builders. 
In  fact,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that  the  first  -Lime  I  get 
back  to  the  old  home,  I  am  going  to  dig  into  this  mound 
and  find  whether  it  is  a  prehistoric  mound  or  just  a  knoll. 
A  few  feet  from  this  mound  was  a  small  round  pool  about 
the  size  of  the  mound  itself.  This  pool  was  always  full 
of  pollywogs,  crawfish,  and  small  minnows.  As  it  never 
went  dry,  minnows  that  found  themselves  stranded  there 
after  the  creek  had  overflowed  its  banks  could  always 
find  plenty  to  eat  until  an  opportunity  came  to  leave  dur- 
ing the  next  high  water.  This  bird  was  standing  on  one 
foot  at  the  edge  of  this  pool,  as  immovable  as  a  stick. 

The  first  thing  that  attracted  my  attention  was  his  very 
long,  slender  legs  and  his  even  longer  slender  neck.  His 
bill,  too,  was  long  and  pointed,  and  he  wore  a  crest  on  the 
back  of  his  head  that  stuck  out  like  a  plume.  As  the  sun- 
light flashed  over  him  he  showed  wonderful  shades  of  green 
and  purple,  but  when  a  cloud  came  over  the  sun  his  head 
and  wings  and  back  appeared  almost  black.  It  was  by 
the  merest  accident  that  I  noticed  him  before  he  saw  me, 
and  curiosity  coupled  with  a  knowledge  of  the  wildlings, 
led  me  to  stand  perfectly  still  and  watch  him.  I  do  not 


THE  SHITEPOKE  77 

think  I  was  more  than  fifty  feet  from  him,  but  as  I  had 
been  walking  along  the  edge  of  the  creek,  my  head  being 
lower  than  the  bank,  he  had  not  seen  me  nor  heard  the 
sound  of  my  bare  feet  on  the  mud.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
we  stood  there  an  endless  length  of  time,  for  no  reason 
that  I  could  understand  unless  it  could  be  that  he  was 
asleep,  and  because  I  was  so  anxious  to  see  what  he  was 
about  I  stood  almost  as  still  as  he — which  probably  ex- 
plains why  it  seemed  so  long.  Finally,  like  a  bolt  of  light- 
ning out  of  a  clear  sky  the  long  neck  darted  forward  and 
the  bill  and  most  of  the  head  flashed  under  the  water. 
Quicker  than  I  can  tell  it,  he  straightened  up  with  a  craw- 
fish in  his  bill.  I  was  fisherman  enough  to  know  that  if 
one  expects  any  luck  with  the  finny  tribe  he  must  be  quiet 
when  he  is  fishing,  but  I  have  never  been  able,  even  to 
the  present  day,  to  know  why  he  prefers  to  stand  on  one 
leg  with  the  other  drawn  up  tight  to  his  body  when  fish- 
ing. I  was  so  surprized  that  I  made  an  exclamation  suffi- 
cient to  attract  his  attention  and  away  he  flew  up  the 
creek,  keeping  near  the  water  so  that  his  body  would  not 
be  seen  above  the  sky-line.  A  comical  sight  he  presented, 
his  long  legs  dangling,  his  neck  sticking  out  ahead,  and  his 
great  wings,  large  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  size  of  his 
body,  slowly  flapping.  I  followed  as  rapidly  as  I  could 
until  I  reached  the  place  where  mother  was  sitting,  eager 
to  call  her  attention  to  the  bird  before  it  could  get  out  of 
sight.  To  my  inquiry  of  "What  is  it?"  she  said,  "A  shite- 
poke/'  and  she  presumed  a  pair  of  them  must  have  a 
nest  somewhere  in  the  swamp  near  the  crabapple  and  plum 
thicket,  just  over  the  fence,  in  the  edge  of  Graham's  brush. 
We  went  back  to  work,  but  after  that  every  time  I  got 
a  chance  I  would  slip  down  to  the  creek  and  watch  this 


78       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

odd  bird  and  his  mate.  I  found,  however,  that  it  was  no 
easy  task  to  slip  up  on  them  without  being  observed. 
Usually  the  first  I  became  aware  of  their  presence  was 
when  I  heard  a  peculiar  croaking  grunt  and  saw  them 
awkwardly  flying  down  the  creek.  Sometimes,  however,  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  observe  their  fishing.  It  was 
always  the  same  old  story,  the  bird  never  tried  to  follow 
Tip  and  catch  his  prey.  Instead  he  always  stationed  him- 
self at  the  edge  of  the  creek,  or,  more  frequently  still,  on 
the  bank  of  this  little  pool,  his  favorite  fishing  ground, 
and  watched  for  his  prey  to  come  near.  The  shitepoke 
must  be  a  bird  of  wonderful  patience  for  I  have  known 
him  to  stand  immovable  as  a  post  for  more  than  an  hour 
at  a  time.  He  was  so  absolutely  immovable  that  it  seemed 
impossible  for  him  to  be  awake ;  but  always,  sooner  or  later, 
I  was  startled  by  the  lightning-like  dart  of  his  long  neck. 
He  certainly  is  an  expert  spearsman,  for  never  once  did  I 
see  one  of  these  birds  fail  to  catch  his  prey.  Sometimes 
it  was  a  minnow,  sometimes  it  was  a  tadpole,  but  more 
often  it  was  a  frog  or  a  crawfish.  I  do  not  know  whether 
this  was  because  he  especially  preferred  them  to  any  other 
food  or  whether  it  was  because  they  were  more  plentiful.  If 
he  was  fishing  for  his  own  dinner  he  promptly  whacked  his 
prey  against  the  ground  two  or  three  times  and  swallowed 
it;  but  as  the  summer  came  I  found  he  very  frequently 
would  beat  his  prey  until  it  was  dead  and  lay  it  on  the 
bank  until  he  caught  something  more  and  then  taking 
both  in  his  long  bill,  would  fly  lazily  down  the  creek.  Of 
course  I  was  anxious  to  find  his  nest,  and  as  I  knew  he 
was  carrying  food  to  his  young,  I  sought  long  and  ear- 
nestly. But  I  was  under  the  impression  that  a  bird  with 
so  long  legs  as  he  must  necessarily  nest  on  the  ground, 


THE  SHITEPOKE  79 

for  certainly,  it  seemed,  no  nest  placed  in  a  tree  could 
accommodate  such  dangling  legs.  I  had  heen  told  that  he 
was  a  heron.  In  fact,  while  father  and  mother  both  usually 
called  him  a  shitepoke,  they  knew  that  he  was  a  green  he- 
ron; but  neither  had  seen  a  nest  and  both  supposed  he 
nested  on  a  tussock  in  some  swampy  place  like  most  of  the 
waders.  I  tramped  over  the  swamp  ground  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  plum  and  crabapple  thicket  time  after  time 
to  no  effect. 

I  think  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  had  been  taught 
that  there  is  a  great  tribe  of  waders,  so  called  because  of 
their  long  legs,  and  that  they  are  fishers  which  live  in 
shallow  swamps  and  on  the  banks  of  streams.  I  had  also 
seen  a  picture  of  a  flamingo's  nest,  and  was  under  the 
impression  that  all  of  this  family  built  mud  and  grass 
nests  on  the  ground  like  the  flamingos. 

I  watched  these  birds  for  five  years  before  I  was  suc- 
cessful in  finding  their  nest,  and  when  I  did  find  it,  there 
were  five  nests  all  within  thirty  or  forty  feet  of  each  other, 
the  oldest  one  almost  rotted  and  falling  out  of  the  tree. 
Evidently  there  was  a  nest  for  each  of  the  five  years  I 
had  watched  the  birds.  Lest  you  make  the  same  mistake 
as  I  did,  I  must  tell  you  that  the  nests  were  in  very  thick 
brushy  crabapple  trees  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  from  the 
ground.  They  were  of  the  size  of  a  very  large  crow's  nest 
and  were  built  of  sticks.  The  top  of  the  nest  was  larger 
than  one  would  naturally  expect  for  so  small  birds,  doubt- 
less because  their  long  legs  make  a  bigger  nest  necessary 
than  would  otherwise  be  needed. 

There  was  another  mistake  I  made  for  several  years. 
There  is  a  similar  bird  not  quite  as  large  and  not  of  the 
same  color,  but  so  shy  that  I  have  seldom  been  able  to 


80      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

see  him  except  at  a  distance,  but  I  did  hear  his  unearthly 
noise.  This  is  a  bird  we  knew  locally  as  the  thunderpump. 
In  reality  this  bird  is  a  bittern,  and  he  fishes  along  the 
banks  of  streams  very  much  as  did  my  green  heron;  but 
he  feeds  more  like  a  duck,  putting  his  long  bill  down  in 
the  mud  and  feeling  about  for  worms,  snails,  and  anything 
he  may  be  lucky  enough  to  find.  He  gives  utterance  to  a. 
heavy  rumbling  noise  that  can  be  heard  for  a  long  way. 
As  both  birds  lived  along  this  creek,  and  as  the  thunder- 
pump  was  so  shy  that  I  did  not  get  to  see  him  when  I 
would  creep  up  carefully  to  find  out  what  was  making 
the  thundering  noise  and  as  I  often  found  the  shitepoke,. 
I  was  sure  that  he  was  the  bird. 

The  shitepoke  is  found  over  a  very  large  part  of  our 
country.  He  does  no  harm,  living  as  he  does  a  quiet  se- 
cluded life  and  feeding  on  snails,  small  fish,  etc.  In  the 
Middle  States  he  is  probably  the  only  long-legged  bird  any- 
where near  his  size  that  you  will  find  in  such  locations. 
Of  course  there  are  other  herons  of  similar  appearance; 
but  they,  instead  of  being  twelve  or  fourteen  inches  in 
height,  are  two  or  three  feet  tall.  The  shitepoke  is  found 
in  secluded  places  and  deep  in  the  woods  about  ponds  or 
along  streams. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Herodiones 

PLATALEID* — Spoonbills. 

With    the    upper    mandible    grooved    to    the    tip,    the    bill    broad    and 

spoon-shaped  at  its  end. 
THRESKIORNITHIDJE — Ibises. 

With   upper  mandible   grooved   to  the  tip,   but  with  bill  narrow   and 

bent  downward,  not  spoon-shaped  at  its  end. 
ARDEIDJE — Herons. 

With  the  upper  mandible  not  grooved  to  the  tip,  the  neck  and  most 

of  the  head  feathered,  and  the  hind  toe  on  £  level  with  the  others. 
CXCONXIDX — Storks  and  Wood  Ibises. 

Like   ARDEID.K,    but   with    the   head   and   part   of   the   neck   bare,    and 

the  hind  toe  elevated. 


XII 

THE  SILENT  DANCER 

ONE  day  late  last  spring,  as  I  was  walking  across  the 
campus  toward  my  class  room,  I  was  startled  by 
hearing  a  long-forgotten  sound.  It  came  like  an  echo  of 
former  days  and  brought  with  it  a  flood  of  fond  mem- 
ories of  childhood.  I  stood  still  in  my  tracks  and  began 
scanning  the  Southern  horizon  as  I  had  done  hundreds  of 
times  in  my  childhood  for  my  long  forgotten  friends. 
Presently  the  cries  came  again  and  I  succeeded  in  making 
out  a  dim  line  of  birds  circling  in  the  southern  horizon. 
Higher  and  higher  they  mounted  for  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen 
minutes  and  then  started  on  north  straight  toward  me. 
Nothing  that  I  had  seen  for  a  long  time  was  so  great 
a  surprize,  or  gave  me  so  much  pleasure,  except  the  eight 
of  the  two  trumpeter  swans  mentioned  elsewhere  in  this 
book.  Fortunately  I  succeeded  in  calling  several  persons 
to  witness  the  sight. 

By  the  time  the  birds  were  directly  overhead  they  had 
fallen  low  enough  that  one  could  see  their  long  legs  stick- 
ing out  behind  and  their  equally  long  necks  and  bills 
sticking  out  in  front.  When  they  were  almost  directly 
overhead  the  leader  gave  a  signal  and  they  all  broke  rank 
and  again  started  circling  in  order  again  to  gain  height 
before  making  another  dash  northward.  They  circled 

81 


82       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

about  until  they  were  so  high  that  they  were  almost  out  of 
eight  and  then  the  leader  gave  the  signal  and  started  north 
again,  and  before  they  had  gone  a  hundred  yards  all  had 
fallen  into  line.  Every  bird  seemed  to  know  his  place 
and  promptly  flew  directly  to  it.  Sandhill  cranes,  for 
this  is  what  these  birds  were,  usually  fly  in  a  V-shaped 
line,  but  it  differs  from  that  of  the  Canadian  wild  goose  in 
that  one  side  of  the  line  is  very  long  and  the  other  very 
short.  Some  wise  old  bird,  usually  a  gander,  flies  at  the 
point  of  the  V  and  usually  no  more  than  two  or  three  fall 
in  almost  directly  behind  him.  The  others  form  a  long 
line  sloping  back  at  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees. 

When  these  birds  are  going  south  in  the  fall,  especially 
if  they  have  been  surprized  by  an  unusually  cold  spell, 
they  fly  rapidly,  often  going  two  or  three  miles  before  cir- 
cling, but  they  never  fly  long  distances  without  circling,  as 
they  gradually  fall  toward  the  earth  when  flying  straight 
ahead.  In  the  spring  time  especially,  if  the  weather  is 
warm  and  they  come  north  early  and  so  are  in  no  hurry  to 
reach  their  nesting  place,  they  circle  very  often  and  tHen 
merely  sail  between  times.  In  the  spring  I  have  watched 
sandhill  cranes  for  twenty  minutes  or  more  from  the  time 
they  came  in  sight  on  the  southern  horizon  until  they  faded 
out  in  the  north,  whereas  on  a  cold  fall  day  they  would 
cover  the  same  distance  in  half  this  time.  I  do  not  think 
it  is  because  these  birds  can  fly  better  in  cold  weather  but 
merely  because  they  are  in  a  hurry  then  and  so  do  their 
best. 

When  I  was  a  boy  thousands  of  these  birds  passed  over 
our  place  every  fall  and  spring.  They  do  not  migrate 
early  in  the  season,  and  so  we  always  regarded  it  as  a  sure 
sign  that  we  would  have  no  more  cold  weather  when  we 


THE  SILENT  DANCER  83 

saw  the  first  flock  of  sandhill  cranes.  These  cranes  never 
nested  in  our  part  of  the  country,  tho  formerly  they 
nested  in  parts  of  Iowa  and  Illinois.  Later  they  confined 
their  nesting  to  the  sand  hills  of  North  Dakota  and  West- 
ern Nebraska.  There  are  a  goodly  number  of  small  lakes 
in  that  district,  and  it  was  in  that  region  that  the  sandhill 
cranes  have  made  their  home  for  ages.  Later  still,  they 
seldom  bred  even  there.  The  territory  lying  between  the 
Missouri  river  and  the  Mississippi  has  always  been  a 
favorite  flying  place  for  migratory  birds.  Located  as  we 
were  between  the  Mississippi  and  the  Des  Moines  rivers, 
we  were  in  the  regular  beaten  path  of  the  sandhill  cranes. 
From  the  South  they  came  up  the  Mississippi  river  and 
then  followed  the  Des  Moines  directly  across  the  State  of 
Iowa  until  they  came  to  the  Missouri  and  followed  it  up  to 
the  vicinity  of  their  nesting  grounds.  In  this  way  they 
could  always  find  plenty  of  food  and  water. 

As  these  birds  came  south  in  the  fall  they  often  stopped 
in  the  cornfields  and  filled  up  on  corn  before  going  on. 
Oftentimes  a  bluster  of  cold  in  the  sand  hills  would  start 
them  southward;  but  as  this  cold  wave  did  not  reach  as 
far  as  southeastern  Iowa,  they  found  it  convenient  to  loiter 
along  the  way,  as  food  was  more  abundant  there  than 
it  would  be  when  they  reached  their  winter  home.  Occa- 
sionally they  alighted  in  the  wheat  fields  on  their  trip 
northward  in  the  spring.  This  was  especially  true  if  there 
came  a  few  days  of  cool  weather  after  they  had  started 
north. 

We  usually  think  of  the  long-legged,  long-billed  birds  as 
waders,  and  expect  them  to  feed  on  fish  and  other  water 
animals;  but  the  sandhill  crane  feeds  to  a  considerable 
extent  on  grain  and  grasses. 


84      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

When  a  flock  of  cranes  alight,  they  at  once  post  their 
sentinels.  If  it  is  a  small  flock  of  not  more  than  twenty- 
five  or  thirty,  there  is  often  only  one  that  stands 
guard,  but  if,  as  sometimes  happens,  the  flock  numbers 
several  hundred,  there  are  several  sentinels  on  duty.  They 
stand  bolt  upright  while  the  flock  is  feeding  and  as  they 
are  almost  as  tall  as  a  man  they  have  a  good  view  of  the 
surrounding  territory.  Perhaps  no  bird  has  keener  eye- 
sight and  is  more  cautious  than  the  sandhill  crane.  I  have 
spent  hours  trying  to  creep  up  close  to  a  flock  of  these 
cranes,  but  I  never  succeeded.  This  was  not  wholly  due 
to  my  stupidity,  either,  for  in  all  the  years  of  my  child- 
hood I  knew  but  one  hunter  to  kill  a  sandhill  crane,  simply 
because  other  hunters  could  not  get  within  gunshot  of 
them. 

These  birds  have  a  peculiar  habit  of  dancing  during 
the  mating  season.  To  a  certain  extent  this  custom  is 
common  among  the  cranes  and  some  other  birds,  but  the 
sandhill  crane  goes  about  the  matter  with  a  seriousness 
and  a  precision  that  puts  him  in  a  class  by  himself.  My 
friend,  Mrs.  Phoebe  Clark,  president  of  the  Tennessee, 
Kentucky  and  Northern  Railroad,  gave  me  the  following 
narration  of  a  sandhill  crane  dance  she  witnessed  some 
years  ago  in  the  sand  hills  fifteen  miles  from  Larimore, 
North  Dakota.  She  said : 

"I  was  driving  with  a  horse  and  buggy  one  afternoon 
when,  as  I  rounded  the  point  of  a  sand  hill  in  full  view  of 
a  small  creek,  I  saw  a  flock  of  some  nineteen  or  twenty  sand- 
hill cranes  drawn  up  in  a  straight  line  on  the  prairie  per- 
haps a  half  mile  from  the  water.  When  I  first  saw  them  they 
were  standing  in  a  straight  line  as  rigid  as  a  company  of 
soldiers  standing  at  attention.  I  stopped  my  horses  at  once 
to  watch  them.  Presently  the  bird  at  the  head  of  the  line 


PAIR   OF  SANDHILL  CRANES   AT   HOME 


THE  SILENT  DANCER  85 

walked  out  in  front  of  the  others  and  solemnly  began  danc- 
ing. He  would  hop  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other, 
jump  up  and  down,  and  whirl  about,  sometimes  flapping 
his  wings.  This  procedure  continued  from  three  to  five 
minutes,  when  he  solemnly  marched  back  and  took  his  place 
at  the  head  of  the  line  and  the  bird  next  to  him  walked  out 
and  went  through  the  same  performance.  I  sat  there  for 
more  than  an  hour  and  watched  until  every  bird  in  the  line 
had  taken  his  turn  and  performed  his  dance.  When  the 
last  one  had  finished,  the  bird  at  the  head  of  the  line  started 
the  dance  over  again.  After  two  or  three  had  danced  the 
second  time,  feeling  that  I  could  wait  no  longer,  I  drove 
away  leaving  them  undisturbed.  During  all  this  time  not 
one  of  the  birds  had  uttered  a  sound." 

Shy  as  these  birds  are  at  other  times,  during  their  love 
making  and  dancing  season  they  do  not  seem  to  station  any 
sentinels  at  all,  but  trust  to  the  God  of  the  wildlings  to 
take  care  of  them.  They  nest  in  rookeries,  often  large 
numbers  nesting  in  a  small  space.  The  nests  are  built  in 
marshy  places  on  tussocks,  often  a  dozen  or  fifteen  nests 
being  found  in  a  group.  This,  however,  may  not  be  be- 
cause they  love  to  be  together  so  much  as  because  there  are 
few  choice  places  to  nest. 

I  happened  to  be  camping  on  the  Brazos  river,  Texas, 
in  1903,  when  the  sandhill  cranes  began  coming  in  from 
the  north,  and  I  was  surprized  at  their  enormous  num- 
bers. There  was  not  an  hour  in  the  day  or  night  that  a 
dozen  or  more  flocks  did  not  arrive,  and  as  the  new  arrivals 
were  not  only  noisy  but  were  greeted  by  thousands  of 
birds  that  had  already  arrived,  they  kept  me  awake  most 
of  the  night.  I  had  always  heard  that  there  are  occasion- 
ally white  sandhill  cranes  but,  until  on  this  occasion,  I 
had  never  seen  one.  I  saw  three  snow  white  sandhill  cranes 
that  week.  It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  they  were 


86      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

white  whooping  cranes  that  had  happened  to  be  with  the 
sandhills,  and  of  course  as  I  did  not  shoot  any  of  them  I 
can  not  prove  that  this  is  not  true;  but  I  saw  at  least  one 
of  them  arrive  from  the  North  with  a  flock  of  sandhills 
and  he  flew  in  his  regular  place  the  same  as  any  other 
member  of  the  flock.  I  had  a  good  pair  of  field-glasses 
with  me  and  go  was  enabled  to  see  these  birds  rery  clearly, 
and  was  thoroughly  convinced  in  my  own  mind  that  they 
were  white  sandhill  cranes.  This  would  be  nothing  un- 
usual among  birds,  for  white  robins,  white  grackles,  or 
even  white  crows  are  occasionally  seen  in  this  country.  In 
fact,  there  was  a  white  robin  that  lived  for  three  or  four 
years  in  Montclair,  New  Jersey,  a  residence  suburb  of 
New  York  City.  This  bird  finally  was  found  dead  one 
morning  in  the  yard  of  a  friend  of  mine  who  told  me  of 
the  incident  and  of  the  interest  the  bird  had  excited  in  the 
community.  Even  white  crows  are  sometimes  seen,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  sandhill  cranes  may  not  occasionally 
be  white.  I  am  aware  that  no  albino  sandhill  cranes  have 
ever  been  reported  by  an  ornithologist,  but  my  father,  who 
was  a  keen  observer  of  birds,  and  knew  well  the  whooping 
crane,  our  large  white  crane,  says  he  has  seen  several  white 
eandhill  cranes  in  the  pioneer  days  when  the  cranes  came 
into  our  neighborhood  in  countless  thousands. 

Within  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years  most  of  the  breed- 
ing grounds  of  the  sandhill  cranes  have  been  settled,  and 
the  same  is  true  of  their  winter  quarters.  For  this  reason 
these  cranes  have  become  almost  extinct.  Dr.  Harry  C. 
Oberholser,  bird  expert  of  the  United  States  Department 
of  Agriculture,  tells  me  that  there  are  probably  only  a  few 
left,  except  in  Florida.  There  is  a  little  brown  crane,  how- 
ever, that  is  very  similar  to  the  eandhill,  so  similar  in  fact, 


THE  SILENT  DANCER  87 

that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  tell  them  apart  unless  the 
birds  are  shot  and  measured.  This  crane  is  still  found  in 
considerable  numbers  during  the  migration  season  and  in 
winter  in  different  parts  of  our  country. 


XIII 

THE  SORA  RAIL 

KA-WEET-EEP,  Ka-weet-eep-eep-eep-eep-eep,  Cheep- 
cheep-cheep-cheep.  I  had  slipped  down  through  the 
woods  and  underbrush  to  a  small  pond  and  was  sitting  half 
concealed  on  a  log,  listening  to  the  night  voices  and  watch- 
ing the  fish  leap  out  of  the  water  here  and  there  as  they 
sprang  for  the  flies  that  were  bobbing  back  and  forth 
over  the  surface  of  the  pond.  The  twilight  was  just  begin- 
ning to  gather.  The  wail  of  the  whippoorwill  came  from 
a  rail  fence  a  few  rods  away,  from  the  tree  above  a  screech 
owl  called  to  his  mate,  while  the  bull  frogs  mingled  their 
heavy  bass  with  the  treble  of  the  tree  toads  and  the  strident 
call  of  the  katydid  and  of  the  green  grasshopper.  From 
up  the  river  came  the  "whoo-whoo"  of  a  great  owl,  while 
in  the  pasture  beyond  a  killdeer  was  protesting  excitedly 
because  the  cows  were  feeding  toward  the  special  preserve 
he  claimed  as  his  own. 

No  music  is  so  restful  to  tired  nerves  and  so  soothing  to 
troubled  spirits  after  the  toil  and  worry  of  a  hard  day 
than  this  song  of  the  wildlings,  God's  chorus  of  the  great 
outdoors.  To  one  who  has  learned  to  seek  and  love  it 
there  is  no  enjoyment  more  keen  and  nothing  that  will 
revive  courage  and  give  new  health  and  hope  so  effectively 
as  to  slip  off  alone  into  such  a  nook  as  this  and  spend  the 
eventide.  You  may  talk  of  the  lure  of  the  great  white 

88 


THE  SORA  RAIL  89 

way  and  the  pleasures  of  Coney  Island  or  similar  places; 
but  to  one  who  truly  knows  and  has  learned  to  understand 
something  better  their  appeal,  which  only  intoxicates  and 
tortures  tired  nerves  and  over-wrought  brains  to  madness, 
in  no  way  compares  with  nature's  evening  entertain- 
ments. 

Ka-weet-eep,      Ka-weet-eep-eep-eep-eep,      Cheep-cheep- 
cheep-cheep  came  again  nearer  and  nearer  and  more  ear- 
nest than  before,  and  a  fantom  bird  darted  round  the 
foot  of  a  stump  and  went  racing  over  the  sand,  picking  up 
a  worm  here  and  a  bug  there  and,  like  a  streak,  whisked 
out  onto  the  moss  and  lily  pads,  never  stopping  for  an  in- 
stant except  to  snatch  a  snail  from  the  stem  of  a  cat-tail 
or  a  crawfish  from  the  shallows  beneath.    A  queer  appari- 
tion indeed  he  made  with  his  legs  so  slim  and  so  long  that 
he  appeared  to  be  running  on  stilts,  and  his  delicate,  slen- 
der finger-like  toes  so  nimble  that  they  could  take  hold  of 
the  driftwood  and  lily  pads  as  easily  as  a  squirrel  clings 
to  his  tree.     Even  more  remarkable  was  his  body — com- 
pressed until  it  reminded  me  of  a  croppy  or  a  sunfish.    The 
Creator  truly  has  adapted  each  creature  to  the  life  he  is  to 
live.    The  goose,  the  loon,  and  the  rest  of  the  swimmers 
have  a  broad,  flat  breast  and  body  so  that  they  will  float 
easily  over  the  surface  of  the  water.    Their  body  is  usually 
broader  than  it  is  deep.    This  creature  which  had  so  sud- 
denly appeared  from  nowhere  clearly  was  made  for  racing. 
His  body  was  compressed  until  it  seemed  to  split  the  air 
like  a  knife  blade.    He  was  a  sora  rail.    To  one  who  is 
unfamiliar  with  these  birds  the  expression  "thin  as  a  rail" 
means  very  little.    When  we  used  to  split  rails  from  the 
oak  trees  and  build  rail  fences,  I  could  never  quite  under- 
stand why  things  were  spoken  of  as  being  as  "thin  as  a 


90      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

rail";  but  when  I  became  acquainted  with  this  bird  the 
expression  became  very  striking  indeed.  I  used  to  wonder 
what  he  did  with  his  food  when  he  swallowed  it,  for  truly 
he  looked  too  thin  to  have  room  even  for  his  food  and  his 
digestive  organs. 

With  contented  "tweet,  tweet"  he  raced  over  the  lily 
pads  until  he  came  to  an  open  place  and  to  my  surprize 
without  a  moment's  hesitation  plunged  into  the  water  and 
swam  over  to  where  there  were  more  lily  pads  and 
clambered  onto  them  and  went  on  his  way  into  the  dark- 
ness beyond.  I  could  hear  his  contented  chirp  for  some 
time,  and  then  suddenly  three  or  four  more  came  running 
down  the  beach  and  took  their  way  out  over  the  lily  pads 
as  he  had  done.  By  frequenting  these  places  I  soon  became 
aware  that  these  birds  were  nesting  in  the  end  of  the  pond 
where  it  merged  into  a  sort  of  a  marshy  place  overgrown 
with  reeds  and  cat-tails.  Here  weeds  and  grass  in  abun- 
dance had  been  heaped  together  on  a  bunch  of  broken 
reeds  above  the  water,  making  a  pile  several  times  as  large 
as  the  bird.  The  surface  was  hollowed  out  just  enough  so 
that  the  eggs  would  surely  remain  in  the  nest. 

We  are  told  that  these  birds  sometimes  nest  some  little 
distance  from  the  water,  even  occasionally  building  in 
gardens  under  gooseberry  bushes  or  in  other  well  con- 
cealed places.  The  bird  lays  from  five  to  sixteen  buff- 
colored  eggs  spotted  with  brown  and  lavender.  The  young 
birds  leave  the  nest  soon  after  they  are  hatched,  and  take 
their  part  in  chasing  back  and  forth  among  the  rushes 
and  over  the  lily  pads  in  search  of  food.  They  live  largely 
on  the  insect  life  that  is  so  abundant  in  the  water,  but  add 
to  this  various  seeds,  wild  rice,  and  an  occasional  snail  or 


THE  SORA  RAIL  91 

crawfish.  They  are  exceedingly  shy  birds,  and  even  tho 
they  are  abundant  they  manage  to  keep  themselves  so  well 
hidden  that  many  people  never  see  the:  A. 

The  way  to  find  a  sora  rail  is  to  not  hunt  for  it,  but 
quietly  to  sit  down  near  the  bank  of  a  creek,  or  on  the 
edge  of  a  pond  where  such  birds  are  known  to  live,  and 
wait  for  eventide  when  they  appear  in  abundance.  They 
are  not  only  found  about  marshes  but  are  abundant  in 
old  meadows,  especially  where  there  are  creeks  or  wet 
places  near  by.  They  are  more  easily  seen  in  the  later 
part  of  August  or  the  first  part  of  September  when  the 
wild  meadows  are  being  mown,  for  at  this  time  the  young 
are  not  yet  able  to  fly  and  the  old  birds,  being  made  more 
brave  by  the  necessity  of  caring  for  the  young,  are  not  so 
shy.  While  one  is  mowing  these  wild  meadows,  these  birds 
are  often  seen;  and  when  they  get  into  a  close  place,  they 
suddenly  drop  into  a  hole  or  depression  and  lie  perfectly 
flat,  allowing  the  mower  to  pass  over,  often  without  ever 
being  seen  by  the  driver. 

These  birds  may  be  recognized  from  others  of  their 
tribe  by  the  fact  that  they  are  black  around  the  base  of 
the  bill,  this  space  extending  downward  on  the  foreneck  in 
front  and  over  the  forehead.  Their  upper  parts  are  olive 
brown,  with  streaks  of  black  running  lengthwise,  and  many 
feathers  have  narrow  stripes  of  white  on  their  edges.  The 
side  of  the  neck  and  the  breast  to  behind  the  eyes  are  of  a 
bluish  ashy  color,  with  circular  spots  of  white.  The  middle 
of  the  abdomen  and  under  the  tail  are  white,  the  sides  and 
flanks  brownish  black  and  white  barred.  The  bill  is 
greenish  yellow  and  the  legs  are  dark  green.  The  bird  is 
about  eight  and  a  half  inches  long.  He  is  usually  seen 


92       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

running  rapidly  with  the  tail  erect,  and  is  most  easily 
found  in  the  early  morning  or  late  in  the  evening.  He 
is  discoverable  over  most  of  our  country,  migrating  in 
the  fall,  hut  returning  with  the  approach  of  warm  weather 
in  the  spring.  They  nest  mostly  in  the  north  country. 


xiy 

THE  AMERICAN  COOT 

AFTER  the  ducks  had  long  stopped  nesting  along 
Wymore's  Branch,  another  bird  remained  that  we 
children  were  taught  to  call  the  fish  duck.  This  hird  was 
also  known  as  the  mud  hen,  I  presume  because  it  was  usu- 
ally found  paddling  around  in  the  mud  at  the  edge  of  the 
streams  or  near  the  shores  of  ponds ;  or  it  may  have  been 
because  we  occasionally  found  its  nest  among  the  rabbit 
ears  or  cat-tails  where  the  water  had  dried  up,  leaving 
mud  so  deep  that  we  youngsters  had  to  roll  our  pants' 
legs  above  our  knees  to  get  to  the  nest.  They  were  noisy 
birds,  keeping  up  a  clamor  day  and  night.  The  note  was 
a  sort  of  a  "Coo-coo-coo-coo-coo-coo."  The  first  note 
always  began  on  a  high  key  and  while  the  rest  were  lower 
it  seemed  as  if  the  bird  was  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  through 
with  his  song.  I  used  to  say  that  if  I  were  a  bird  and 
could  sing  no  better  than  that  I  would  want  to  get  through 
with  it,  too,  but  that  it  seemed  to  me  I  would  keep  still  in 
the  first  place. 

The  last  of  these  birds  I  ever  saw  on  Wymore's  Branch 
were  in  the  little  pool  where  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  shitepoke.  I  was  trudging  through  the  woods  with  a 
twenty-two  caliber  rifle  under  the  impression  that  I  was 
hunting.  When  on  such  expeditions  I  occasionally  car- 

93 


94,      KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

ried  home  a  nice  bunch  of  game,  but  more  often  I  came 
home  without  having  fired  a  shot.  I  had  learned  to  be 
expert  in  shooting,  but  never  could  make  up  my  mind  to 
kill  anything  if  I  allowed  myself  to  stop  and  watch  it  for 
a  time,  because  it  always  seemed  to  be  having  such  a  fine 
time  living  that  it  would  be  entirely  too  bad  to  end  so 
happy  an  existence. 

I  had  set  my  gun  down  against  a  tree  and  was  watching 
an  old  mother  crawfish  which  I  had  forced  to  release  the 
youngsters  she  was  carrying  under  her  tail,  gather  them 
up  again,  one  by  one,  when  I  heard  a  "quack,  quack, 
quack/'  as  plain  as  if  it  had  been  made  by  a  duck.  I  had 
never  killed  any  ducks  and  it  seemed  a  very  desirable  thing 
to  slip  up  on  the  drove  which  I  felt  sure  was  just  around 
the  bend  of  the  creek  and  perchance  shoot  one. 

Taking  my  rifle  I  slipped  along  the  path  that  led  just 
above  the  old  fern  bank,  and  when  I  came  near  crawled 
as  noiselessly  as  possible  to  the  creek  bank  beyond  the 
bend.  There  was  plenty  of  hazelbrush  on  this  bank  and  as 
people  were  not  accustomed  to  hunt  here  I  found  no  diffi- 
culty in  reaching  the  bank  of  the  creek  only  a  few  yards 
from  where  I  expected  to  find  my  ducks  without  being 
discovered.  Cautiously  peering  up  and  down  the  creek  I 
saw  nothing.  Then  it  occurred  to  me  to  look  in  the  pool 
and  surely  enough,  no  more  than  fifty  or  sixty  feet  away 
were  a  pair  of  fish  ducks  or,  as  they  should  be  called,  coots. 
They  were  swimming  about  without  the  least  suspicion 
of  fear,  having  just  the  best  time  possible  catching  tad- 
poles. No  fish  had  been  left  in  this  pool  the  last  time 
the  creek  had  flooded,  and  an  old  warted  toad  had  selected 
this  place  to  lay  her  eggs  and  consequently  there  were 
young  toad  tadpoles  here  by  the  hundreds  if  not  thou- 


THE  AMERICAN  COOT  95 

sands.  More  than  this,  two  or  three  meadow  frogs  had 
elected  to  lay  their  eggs  there  also  and  their  tadpoles  were 
abundant. 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  recognize  that  these  were 
not  ducks,  or  at  least  were  not  the  kind  of  ducks  that  I 
desired  to  kill.  One  very  noticeable  feature  was  that 
their  bills  were  almost  white  and  showed  very  conspicu- 
ously against  the  glossy  black  head  and  neck.  In  general 
the  birds  were  a  dark  bluish  color,  the  wings  tipped  and 
touched  with  white.  The  bill  was  not  so  broad  as  the  bill 
of  a  duck  and  evidently  was  better  suited  for  catching 
living  creatures  than  for  eating  grass. 

In  fishing  they  were  very  active  indeed.  Instead  of 
standing  on  their  heads  with  their  tails  and  heels  in  the 
air  like  a  duck  they  made  short  quick  dives,  often  only 
putting  the  head  and  neck  under  the  water  but  sometimes 
submerging  entirely.  I  watched  them  for  some  time,  for- 
getting all  about  shooting.  Finally  becoming  more  inter- 
ested I  attempted  to  move  to  a  new  location  where  I  could 
see  better,  when  they  discovered  me  and  flew  away,  strik- 
ing the  water  with  a  tremendous  splatter  of  wings  and 
feet  as  they  rose  into  the  air.  Doubtless  this  was  with 
the  deliberate  intention  of  startling  me,  just  as  a  quail 
or  a  dove  flaps  her  wings  over  her  back  for  this  purpose. 

In  Northern  Iowa  and  Minnesota  I  have  become  better 
acquainted  with  these  birds.  Here  they  nest  by  the  hun- 
dreds or  even  thousands.  At  one  time  I  am  sure  that  I 
saw  several  thousands  of  these  birds  on  the  shore  of  a  lake 
where  they  appeared  as  thick  as  the  chickens  in  our  poul- 
try yard  at  home.  Usually  they  build  their  nests  by  pil- 
ing reeds,  moss,  grass,  etc.,  in  the  shallow  water,  anchor- 
ing them  to  rushes  very  much  as  does  the  loon.  This  nest 


96       KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

is  so  constructed  that  should  the  water  rise  it  will  float 
higher  but  will  not  leave  its  moorings,  but  should  the 
water  dry  up  it  will  settle  softly  on  the  bottom.  Some- 
times where  the  water  has  gone  down  these  nests  are  found 
several  yards  from  the  shore,  but  as  they  usually  build 
farther  out  from  shore  than  most  marsh-nesting  birds  this 
is  not  apt  to  happen. 

The  nest  is  about  a  foot  in  diameter  and  is  just  saucer 
shaped  enough  on  top  to  hold  the  eggs,  this  saucer  being 
lined  with  fine  grass.  They  lay  from  nine  to  fourteen  eggs, 
slightly  tinted  with  brown  and  minutely  speckled  all  over 
with  black  or  dark  brown.  They  are  so  near  the  color  of 
the  nest  in  which  they  lie  that  it  is  hard  to  see  them  at  a 
distance  of  a  few  yards. 

This  bird  does  not  brood  her  eggs  closely  as  do  many 
birds.  If  one  approaches  where  she  is  brooding  she 
scrambles  off  the  nest,  runs  a  few  yards  and  then  rises 
into  the  air  with  a  tremendous  splatter  and  often  man- 
ages to  appear  so  badly  injured  as  to  lead  people  on  a 
merry  chase  until  she  has  led  them  far  away  from  the 
nest. 

Coots  have  a  peculiar  appearance  when  on  the  wing,  as 
they  often  fly  with  the  bill  pointing  down  and  the  feet 
sticking  backward  and  upward.  The  wings  are  much 
broader  than  tl  .  wings  of  a  duck,  which  is  a  distinguish- 
ing mark  between  the  two.  When  the  coot  alights  in  the 
water  it  makes  a  splash  and  when  it  starts  to  fly  it  makes 
a  splatter.  In  fact,  because  of  this  habit,  in  many  places 
it  is  known  as  the  splatterer. 

These  birds  are  to  be  found  along  the  creeks  and  in 
the  marshes  over  the  northern  part  of  the  United  States 
almost  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  They  migrate  late 


fj 

o  n 


KILLDEER  AND  NEST 

Photo  by  A.   H.  Eastgate 

(See    Chapter    15) 


THE  AMERICAN  COOT  97 

in  the  fall  and  return  early  in  the  spring.  They  are 
usually  found  nesting  in  the  marshes  along  our  streams, 
lakes,  and  other  similar  places. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Paludicolae 

MEGALORNITHIDJB — Cranes. 

With  the  hind  toe  small  and  much  elevated. 

RALLID.S — Rails,    Coots,   and    Gallinules. 

With  the  hind   toe   long   and   nearly   on   a  level   with   the   other   toes, 
the  tail  feathers  soft,  very  short,  and  almost  hidden. 

ARA  M  IDJK — Limpkins. 

With  the  hind  toe  long  and  nearly  on  a  level  with  the  other  toes, 
but  with  the  tail  feathers  stiffish  and  well  developed. 


Foot  of  COOT 


XV 

THE  KILLDEER 

THEEE  is  a  large  group  of  medium-sized  birds  that 
have  always  interested  me.  They  have  long,  slen- 
der legs  and  bills  like  the  herons  but  do  not  have  their 
excessively  long  necks  and  slender  bodies.  In  fact,  most 
of  them  have  bodies  as  plump  as  a  partridge  or  a  quail. 
Their  wings,  long  and  slender,  are  so  relatively  more  than 
those  of  the  crane  and  herons;  and  instead  of  being  awk- 
ward on  their  legs  these  birds  are  rapid  runners.  Indeed,  I 
know  of  no  birds  anywhere  near  their  size  that  are  so  active 
on  foot  as  this  family.  There  are  many  varieties,  com- 
monly known  as  snipes,  sandpipers^  woodcocks,  plovers, 
etc.  They  all  have  similar  habits,  so  if  you  know  the  life 
history  of  one,  you  can  form  a  fair  idea  of  how  the  others 
live.  They  are  easily  recognized  from  other  birds  by  their 
long  legs  and  distinctive  bills,  which  separate  them  from 
other  birds  in  general,  and  by  the  plump  body  and  shorter 
neck  which  distinguish  them  from  the  cranes,  the  herons, 
and  the  bitterns. 

These  birds  for  the  most  part  live  along  the  coast  or 
along  the  shores  of  lakes  and  streams,  tho  they  are  often 
found  in  pastures  and  meadows,  especially  in  tLs  swampy 
places.  They  feed  mostly  on  worms,  snails,  insects  and 
crustaceans  that  are  found  in  shallow  water.  Possibly 

98 


THE  KILLDEER  99 

the  most  common  and  the  best  known  of  these  birds  is 
the  killdeer.  I  have  known  these  birds  practically  all  my 
life,  and  have  never  been  in  any  part  of  the  United  States 
where  they  are  not  found,  altho  of  course  they  are  much 
more  abundant  in  some  places  than  in  others.  But  it  has 
been  only  within  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years  that  I  have 
had  the  opportunity  to  know  them  intimately.  From  my 
class  room  I  can  look  out  over  a  pasture  and  see  from  one 
to  two  dozen  killdeers  almost  any  time.  There  is  a  small 
draw  that  heads  in  this  pasture  that  or  a  large  part  of 
the  year  is  more  or  less  swampy.  If  I  start  across  this 
part  of  the  pasture,  these  birds  from  all  sides  begin  scream- 
ing "killdeer,  killdeer/'  and  I  see  them  running  ahead  of  me 
very  much  as  quails  often  do;  but  they  do  not  run  far 
before  taking  flight.  For  seventeen  years  no  one  has  been 
allowed  to  shoot  them.  Probably  no  birds  living  there 
now  have  ever  been  shot  at.  For  this  reason  they  are 
tame,  and  even  when  they  fly  do  not  go  more  than  a  few 
rods  before  alighting. 

In  spite  of  my  busy  life  I  have  had  opportunity  to 
watch  these  birds  carefully.  I  find  that  they  are  experts 
in  locating  cut-worms  or  angleworms  even  tho  these 
are  buried  under  the  soil,  and  that  they  are  equally  ex- 
pert in  digging  down  to  them  with  their  long,  sharp  bills. 
Their  food  consists  largely  of  these  worms,  caterpillars, 
grasshoppers  and  other  insects.  If  other  foods  run 
short,  they  feed  on  the  young  succulent  grass  that  is  sure 
to  be  found  in  swampy  places.  They  particularly  like  to 
run  over  the  garden  in  the  springtime.  When  the  gar- 
den is  being  plowed  they  make  it  a  point  to  run  over  the 
newly  plowed  ground  in  search  of  angleworms  or  moth 
chrysalids  that  may  be  turned  out.  As  the  early  vegetables 


100    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

come  on,  these  birds  are  often  seen  running  up  and  down 
the  rows  of  cabbage  and  lettuce,  picking  off  the  worms. 
They  are  jolly  little  fellows,  always  chuckling  to  them- 
selves, especially  when  they  find  a  worm. 

They  usually  live  and  feed  in  small  flocks,  and  there  is 
always  a  sentry  or  two  on  guard  while  the  others  feed. 
When  disturbed  this  sentry  warns  his  fellows  by  a  sharp, 
piercing  cry  and  then  flies  to  safety. 

Every  season  for  at  least  ten  years  I  have  found  one 
or  more  killdeer's  nests  in  the  garden.  I  was  especially 
amused  with  one  killdeer's  nest  I  found  about  the  tenth  of 
last  June.  She  had  wallowed  a  little  hole  in  the  gravel  on 
a  side  hill  in  a  field  of  newly  set  strawberries.  I  was 
looking  over  this  field  in  company  with  a  friend,  when  to 
my  amusement  a  killdeer  ran  up  almost  to  our  very  feet 
and  fell  over  and  begun  to  flutter  as  if  she  had  heart  fail- 
ure and  was  in  her  death  throes.  I  was  far  too  wise  in 
bird  lore  to  allow  her  to  fool  me  into  trying  to  catch  her 
or  into  following  her,  and  this  seemed  to  worry  her  a  great 
deal.  Over  and  over  she  would  flutter  away  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet,  making  it  very  plain  that  she  was  in  the  greatest 
pain,  that  one  wing  was  broken  and  that  the  leg  on  the 
other  side  couldn't  be  used  at  all.  She  would  struggle 
over  the  ground  with  one  wing  and  one  leg  dragging,  utter- 
ing the  most  pitiful  cries  of  pain  and  distress,  but  when 
we  refused  to  follow,  she  always  managed  to  be  able  to 
fly  back  and  fall  almost  at  our  feet  again.  I  had  not  seen 
the  nest  as  yet,  and  but  for  her  antics  doubtless  we  never 
would  have  seen  or  known  that  it  was  there ;  but  by  circling 
about  a  bit  and  watching  her  actions  it  was  easy  to  see 
when  I  was  getting  farther  away  or  nearer  to  the  nest,  and 
before  many  minutes  I  found  it. 


THE  KILLDEEK;  ••*,  \  /         ioi 

A  killdeer's  nest  is  not  the  easiest  thifig^  to-*  se^"  It*  fe 
simply  a  shallow  depression  walldwe^d! "  irit6  the  'gfo'und, 
and  may  or  may  not  be  lined  with  a  few  straws.  This 
nest  had  no  lining.  The  eggs  were  thickly  speckled  and 
so  closely  matched  the  pebbles  in  the  soil  that,  even  when 
I  saw  the  nest,  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  the  eggs  at  a 
distance  of  ten  feet.  We  walked  up  within  three  or  four 
feet  of  the  nest;  but  as  we  did  not  touch  the  eggs  and 
finally  went  away,  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  mother  believed 
that  we  did  not  find  it.  This  bird  laid  four  eggs  and  sat 
on  them  for  days;  then  one  morning  about  nine  o'clock 
she  came  off  the  nest  and  lo,  four  little  fuzzy,  blackish 
brown  and  white  mottled  balls  of  down  begun  to  run  over 
the  ground  after  her.  I  never  see  young  killdeers  but  their 
small  bodies  and  long  legs  make  me  think  of  the  toy  ani- 
mals I  used  to  make  when  a  child  by  sticking  sticks  into 
small  potatoes  or  match  straws  into  peanut  shells. 

While  these  little  creatures  are  colored  so  nearly  like 
the  ground,  they  are  more  easily  seen  than  young  quails  of 
similar  age.  They  do  not  stay  in  the  nest  like  most  birds, 
nor  do  they  always  follow  the  mother  closely  like  the  young 
quail,  tho  they  are  often  with  her.  They  often  straggle 
across  the  field  as  they  will,  usually  keeping  near  the  nest- 
ing place.  When  the  mother  bird  comes  to  find  them 
she  utters  her  call,  alights  on  the  ground  and  starts  run- 
ning about,  chattering,  while  they  come  running  for  what- 
ever she  may  have.  These  little  fellows  do  not  seem 
to  be  in  the  least  afraid  of  man.  I  do  not  know  whether 
it  is  because  they  have  not  been  disturbed  for  so  many 
years,  for  I  never  was  fortunate  enough  to  see  young  kill- 
deers until  the  past  few  years,  but  I  have  never  seen  any  that 
tried  very  hard  to  get  away  when  I  wished  to  catch  them 


'  KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 


Trave  evei  i  kaowtf  them  to  run  to  me  —  whether  for 
protection,  'or  "because  they  thought  I  might  have  some- 
thing to  feed  them  I  never  could  quite  make  out.  They 
grow  rapidly  and  when  three  weeks  old,  if  all  has  gone 
well,  are  able  to  fly,  but  long  before  this  time  they  have 
become  fast  runners.  It  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me 
how  these  little  fellows  escape  their  enemies.  I  can  under- 
stand well  enough  that  their  protective  coloring  saves  them 
from  hawks  and  owls,  but  there  are  rats,  snakes,  ground 
squirrels,  and  dozens  of  other  small  animals  at  large,  and 
anything  as  innocent  as  a  little  killdeer  wandering  over  the 
earth  must  meet  these  creatures  frequently.  That  they 
usually  get  by  alive  is  proved  by  the  ever  increasing  num- 
bers that  are  seen  in  the  pasture  near  by. 

I  have  stated  that  I  have  never  seen  the  young  killdeers 
follow  their  mother  as  young  quails  follow  theirs.  Others, 
however,  have  told  me  that  they  have  seen  the  mother 
killdeer  running  about  on  the  ground  with  her  young  fok 
lowing  her  closely.  The  mother  bird  does  not  carry  worms 
to  her  young,  but  helps  them  to  find  their  food  on  the 
ground.  In  order  to  do  this  she  must  be  with  them  a 
great  part  of  the  time.  I  presume  the  reason  I  find 
them  alone  so  often  is  that  the  mother  bird  is  on  the  wing 
so  much  of  the  time  that  the  little  birds  become  scattered 
while  she  is  away.  When  they  have  the  opportunity,  they 
doubtless  follow  her  as  other  birds  do.  When  night  comes 
the  mother  killdeer  comes  back  to  the  vicinity  of  the  nest, 
calls  her  babies  together,  and  hovers  them  during  the 
night. 

The  killdeer  is  not  a  bird  that  minds  the  cold  weather 
as  long  as  it  can  get  plenty  of  food.  In  open  winters  they 
used  to  stay  all  the  year  round  in  Iowa,  but  commonly 


THE  KILLDEER  103 

they  disappeared  about  the  time  the  first  heavy  snows  fell, 
but  were  sure  to  be  back  again  with  the  return  of  spring. 
Near  Nashville,  Tennessee,  where  I  am  now  living,  they 
are  with  us  all  the  time  except  in  the  stormiest  and  snow- 
iest weather.  Doubtless,  like  most  of  our  other  birds,  they 
retire  to  the  cane  brakes  and  thick  brush  when  such  weather 
comes. 

Many  people  hunt  the  killdeer  for  food.  This  is  true 
also  of  most  snipes.  The  woodcock,  one  of  the  snipe  fam- 
ily that  is  found  over  much  of  our  country,  is  even  a 
greater  delicacy  than  quail.  It  seems  too  bad  that  such 
beautiful  and  valuable  creatures  as  our  birds  must  be 
slaughtered  by  tens  of  thousands  every  year  simply  that 
man  may  satisfy  his  appetite.  Having  protected  the  birds 
for  the  past  eighteen  years,  our  school  farm  has  become  a 
veritable  bird  haven,  and  probably  this  accounts  for  the 
fact  that  we  have  killdeers  in  such  great  numbers. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Limicolae 

JACANIDJE — Jacanas. 

With  the  claw  of  the  hind  toe  longer  than  the  toe  alone. 

PHALAROPODID^: — Phalaropes. 

With  the  claw  of  the  hind  toe  not  longer  than  the  toe  alone,  and 
the  toes  with  lateral,  usually  scalloped  membranes. 

APHRIZID.S — Surf-birds   and   Turnstones. 

With  the  tarsus  transversely  scaled  in  front,  the  toes  without  lateral 
membranes,  bill  stout  and  not  longer  than  the  middle  toe  without 
claw. 

SCOLOPACID^ — Snipes  and  Sandpipers. 

Similar  to  APHRIZID^E,  but  bill  slender  and  longer  than  the  middle 
toe  without  claw. 

RECURVIROSTRID.E — Avocets. 

Tarsus  covered  in  front  with  irregular  or  hexagonal  scales  and  more 
than  twice  as  long  as  the  middle  toe  with  claw. 

H^MATOPODID^E — Oyster-catchers. 

Tarsus  covered  in  front  with  irregular  or  hexagonal  scales,  but  less 
than  twice  as  long  as  the  middle  toe  with  claw;  and  the  bill  longer 
than  the  tarsus,  wedge-shaped  at  the  tip. 

CHARADRIID^E — Plovers. 

Like  H^MATOPODID^,  but  bill  shorter  than  tarsus  and  not  wedge- 
shaped  at  tip  (the  tarsus  in  one  species  transversely  scaled  in  front). 


XVI 

LADY  BETTY'S  HUSBAND 

BOB  was  the  husband  of  Lady  Betty,  our  tame  quail. 
He  was  born  in  a  snug,  grassy  nest  at  the  edge  of 
the  meadow  beyond  the  orchard.  His  mother  with  the 
wisdom  of  her  race  had  so  timed  the  laying  of  her  eggs 
that  Bob  and  his  fourteen  brothers  and  sisters  were 
hatched  just  three  days  after  longhorns,  the  grasshopper, 
and  his  nestmates  crawled  out  of  the  grass  and  weeds  at 
the  further  edge  of  the  meadow.  Within  less  than  twenty 
minutes  of  the  time  Bob  was  hatched,  he  was  attempting  to 
follow  his  mother  through  the  wilderness  that  man  called 
a  meadow.  His  fellows  had  all  popped  out  of  their  shells 
within  a  few  moments  of  the  time  that  Bob  crept  out  of 
his.  One  of  the  marvellous  things  about  the  wildlings 
who  lead  their  young  from  the  nest  in  search  of  food  is 
that  many  of  them  often  hatch  all  their  eggs  at  almost  the 
same  moment. 

When  quail  eggs  were  hatched  under  the  old  bantam  hen, 
they  often  required  several  hours  to  get  out  of  the  shell. 
Bob  and  his  fellows  were  hatched  in  the  morning  and  left 
the  nest  as  soon  as  the  dew  had  dried  off  the  grass.  The 
ever  watchful  mother,  knowing  where  the  grasshoppers 
were  emerging  by  the  thousands,  led  her  brood  to  the 
edge  of  the  cornfield  where  each  little  fledgling  tried  to 
excel  the  other  in  catching  baby  grasshoppers. 

Ml 


LADY  BETTY'S  HUSBAND  105 

One  reason  why  quail  are  so  valuable  is  that  the  first 
brood  usually  hatches  within  a  few  days  after  the  grasshop- 
pers emerge  from  their  nests,  and  the  baby  quails  eat  them 
by  the  thousands.  After  half  an  hour  or  so,  when  the  babies 
had  all  dined,  the  mother  hovered  beside  a  clod  so  nearly 
her  own  color  that  no  sparrow  hawk  which  might  chance 
to  fly  overhead  could  notice  her,  and  the  babies  snuggled 
under  her  or  sprawled  about  her  in  the  sunshine  for  a  nap. 

Toward  evening,  after  the  babies  had  fed  and  slept  by 
turns  throughout  the  day,  the  mother  led  her  family 
back  to  sleep,  perhaps  for  the  last  time  in  the  home  nest. 
Had  it  been  necessary  to  wander  far  in  search  of  food, 
she  would  not  have  returned  to  the  nest  for  even  the  first 
night.  The  second  evening  this  mother  merely  crept 
under  the  hedge  and  settled  for  the  night  on  some  dry 
leaves.  Within  a  week  she  ceased  to  hover  her  brood,  and 
instead  they  all  sat  beside  her  until  morning. 

By  the  time  Bob  was  twenty-four  hours  old  his  father 
joined  the  family  and  bore  his  full  share  of  the  family 
responsibilities.  When  Bob  was  about  two  weeks  old  he 
was  surprized  to  have  his  faithful  little  mother  disappear 
for  two  or  three  hours  one  day.  His  father  became  even 
more  watchful  and  solicitous  for  the  safety  of  the  family. 
When  the  mother  returned,  however,  the  children  were  all 
delighted  to  see  her.  The  next  day  she  disappeared  again 
and  this  became  the  daily  program  for  nearly  two  weeks. 
Probably  Bob  did  not  know  that  his  sweet  little  mother 
had  made  another  nest  and  was  stealing  away  every  day 
to  add  an  egg  to  the  growing  treasure  that  was  soon  to 
be  hatched  into  another  brood  of  baby  quails. 

Before  Bob  was  a  month  old  he  could  fly  as  well  as 
any  bird,  though  he  was  not  yet  nearly  grown  up.  His 


106     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

mother  had  deserted  the  family  save  for  a  short  time 
occasionally,  but  the  father  never  led  them  far  from 
the  new  nest  and  every  night  they  roosted  close  by  the 
mother  and  her  treasures. 

The  second  family  had  their  first  feed  on  the  chinch 
bugs  that  were  just  now  running  from  the  wheat  into  the 
corn.  The  mother  would  gather  her  family  around  a 
cornstalk  on  which  there  were  dozens  of  chinch  bugs,  then 
backing  off  a  few  feet,  she  would  fly  against  this  corn- 
stalk with  sufficient  force  to  jar  the  bugs  to  the  ground. 
Before  they  could  take  flight  or  crawl  back  on  the  stalk 
the  baby  quails  had  fed  in  abundance.  Thus  the  wild 
mother  showed  her  wisdom  again.  Had  these  babies 
hatched  a  few  days  sooner,  the  chinch  bugs  would 
have  been  in  the  wheat  field  and  therefore  difficult  to 
secure.  Within  a  week  the  parents  had  united  their  flocks. 
Again  it  was  only  a  few  days  till  the  mother  was  slipping 
away  every  day,  leaving  to  her  husband  the  entire  re- 
sponsibility of  both  broods.  When  the  third  brood  was 
ten  days  old  again  the  family  united,  and  ran  together 
until  all  were  mature. 

As  spring  drew  nigh,  the  flock  scattered  in  all  directions, 
possibly  a  provision  of  nature  against  close  inbreeding. 
But  Bob  chanced  to  return  to  the  old  home. 

Quails  were  whistling  their  "Bob-white"  on  every  bright 
morning  and  the  spirit  of  spring  was  everywhere.  Bob 
whistled  his  loudest  and  best,  stopping  to  listen  each  time 
for  an  answering  call  from  the  mate  he  hoped  to  find. 
One  day  the  boy  took  it  into  his  head  to  whistle  "Bob-white" 
in  reply,  so  every  time  Bob  whistled  he  received  an  an- 
swering call  from  the  dooryard.  Fearing  lest  his  fancied 
rival  might  be  more  successful  in  finding  the  mate  he  felt 


LADY  BETTY'S  HUSBAND  107 

sure  was  near,  each  time  the  boy  whistled,  Bob  flew  a 
little  nearer  until  finally  he  alighted  on  the  garden  fence 
within  fifty  feet  of  the  dooryard.  Lady  Betty,  the  pet 
quail  that  nested  in  grandfather's  old  carpet  slippers,  had 
been  growing  uneasy  with  the  return  of  spring,  and  while 
she  ordinarily  was  perfectly  contented  with  her  human  com- 
panions, now  she  often  wandered  about  the  yard  and  or- 
chard whistling  her  sweet  little  call,  so  different  from 
that  of  the  male.  Most  pet  birds  seem  to  feel  above  others 
of  their  kind,  but  Betty  was  such  an  adorable,  unassuming 
little  lady  that  it  never  entered  her  small  head  that  she 
was  superior  to  any  one.  So  when  the  Bobwhite,  dressed 
in  his  best  summer  suit,  lighted  on  the  garden  fence  and 
began  whistling  his  love  song,  she  was  charmed  at  once. 
She  did  not  immediately  answer,  however,  but  quietly 
flew  around  the  house  and  into  the  edge  of  the  orchard 
where  it  was  almost  impossible  that  she  should  not  be 
seen.  Bob  flew  directly  to  her  and  began  fluttering  and 
strutting  about  making  the  greatest  possible  ado  over  her. 
Betty  had  been  reared  with  human  folk  and  knew  little 
of  the  doings  of  her  own  race.  Perhaps  she  was  not  as 
coquettish  as  she  might  have  been  had  she  grown  up 
with  a  flock  of  birds  and  been  used  to  the  flattery  of  such 
young  gentlemen.  As  it  was,  within  ten  minutes  the 
matter  was  settled.  I  never  have  known  a  bird  wooing 
that  was  accomplished  in  such  a  simple  manner  or  within 
such  a  short  time,  either  before  or  since,  but  undoubtedly 
it  was  just  as  satisfactory  as  if  it  had  taken  a  month.  To- 
gether they  wandered  through  the  orchard  the  remainder  of 
the  day  as  happy  as  two  birds  could  be.  Poor  Bob,  little 
did  he  realize  that  henceforth  he  was  to  be  known  simply  as 
Lady  Betty's  husband  and  to  be  worried  and  harassed 


108     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

by  her  doings  which  he  never  could  understand  or  ap- 
prove. Toward  evening  Betty  insisted  on  coming  into 
the  dooryard,  and  poor  Bob  was  distressed  beyond  meas- 
ure. Every  instinct  and  every  bit  of  training  he  had  ever 
received  told  him  she  was  going  to  certain  death  and  she 
seemed  wholly  unconscious  of  the  fact.  "When  mother 
threw  out  a  handful  of  feed,  poor  Bob  flew  to  the  orchard, 
but  true  to  the  habits  of  his  race,  no  sooner  had  he 
alighted  than  he  ran  back,  keeping  well  under  cover,  to 
see  what  happened  to  Betty.  When  finally  he  peeped 
through  the  garden  fence  and  saw  her  contentedly  sitting  on 
mother's  shoulder,  his  surprize  was  beyond  description. 
He  began  fluttering  and  flopping  much  as  a  mother  dove 
would  have  done  had  some  one  disturbed  her  nest,  and 
when  he  had  attracted  Betty's  attention,  he  rose  with  a 
tremendous  whirr  and  flew  toward  the  meadow.  Betty 
paid  not  the  least  attention  and  when  night  came  roosted 
on  the  porch  as  usual. 

Day  after  day  Bob  fussed  and  fretted  in  his  endeavors 
to  persuade  Betty  that  she  was  not  safe,  but  when  at  last 
she  made  her  nest  in  the  house  he  overcame  his  fears  suffi- 
ciently to  sit  on  the  railing  of  the  porch,  provided  no  one 
came  near.  When  the  little  quails  were  hatched  and 
Betty  led  them  proudly  into  the  front  yard  he  alighted  by 
her  side  with  every  demonstration  of  joy,  but  when  mother 
threw  a  finely  minced  hard-boiled  egg  to  the  brood,  he 
rose  with  a  whirr  which  frightened  the  poor  little  fellows 
almost  out  of  their  wits.  It  was  interesting  to  see  how 
those  babes,  which  but  an  hour  ago  had  hatched,  at  this  first 
call  of  danger  scattered  like  the  leaves  of  autumn,  each  hid- 
ing in  the  best  manner  possible.  Betty  began  calling  in  her 
gentle  soothing  voice  and  presently  one  little  fellow  after 


MALE  BOBWHITE 


BOBWfflTE'S  NEST 


YOUNG  MOURNING 
(See  Chapter  18) 


LADY  BETTY'S  HUSBAND  109 

another  slipped  out  of  the  grass,  peered  around  cautiously, 
and  then  ran  to  their  mother  and  began  feeding  on  the 
egg.  Within  a  week  the  brood  was  perfectly  tame,  but 
poor  Bob  never  could  satisfy  himself  that  his  family  was 
not  being  wrongly  educated.  When  Lady  Betty  began 
sitting  on  the  second  clutch  of  eggs,  he  led  the  brood  to 
the  orchard  and  vineyard  and  before  many  days  they  began 
to  be  shy.  When  winter  came  they  followed  Bob  to  the 
fields  and  left  Betty  to  enjoy  the  luxuries  of  her  home 
alone. 

However,  when  winter  piled  snow  several  feet  deep, 
instead  of  plunging  under  the  snow  after  the  manner  of 
quail  and  prairie  chickens,  and  huddling  together  to  keep 
warm  for  the  night,  thus  taking  a  chance  of  being  im- 
prisoned by  the  terrible  crust  that  so  often  forms  over  the 
surface,  Bob  was  wise  enough  to  lead  his  brood  to  feed  at 
the  corn  crib  and  to  roost  under  the  cattle  shed. 

Toward  spring  Bob  and  his  flock  disappeared.  Whether 
he  was  killed  or  whether  he  chose  to  leave  the  vicinity  and 
choose  another  mate  I  can  not  say.  For  years  a  flock  of 
quails  nested  in  our  orchard  and  meadow,  and  were  so 
gentle  that  they  would  scarcely  fly  when  discovered  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  come  to  the  barnlot  and  the  corn  crib 
for  food  whenever  it  was  scarce  in  the  fields. 

We  have  several  varieties  of  the  bobwhite  quail  in 
America,  differing  mostly  in  size  and  color,  but  the  dif- 
ferences are  so  slight  that  any  person  who  is  acquainted 
with  one  would  recognize  the  others  as  of  the  same  family. 

We  have  several  flocks  of  quail  where  I  am  now  located. 
These  have  been  carefully  protected  for  years,  and  almost 
every  summer  there  are  nests  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
my  house.  In  the  summer  of  1922,  a  quail  nested  near 


110    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

by  that  was  so  fearless  that  she  would  allow  those  whom 
she  saw  working  about  her  every  day  to  come  within  eight 
or  ten  feet  without  showing  the  least  fear,  and  one  day 
one  of  our  faculty  put  his  hand  over  her  and  stroked  her 
while  she  was  on  the  nest,  and  even  then  she  did  not  fly. 

Quails  feed  largely  on  weed  seeds  and  insects,  altho,  of 
course,  at  certain  times  of  the  year  they  eat  grain.  How- 
ever, very  little  of  the  grain  the  quails  eat  would  ever 
be  of  value  to  man,  for  it  is  the  waste  grain  that  is  scat- 
tered over  the  fields  and  would  never  be  gathered. 

Truly  the  Bobwhite  deserves  his  name,  "the  farmer's 
friend,"  for  no  bird  that  lives  is  more  beneficial,  more 
cheery,  and  more  worth  encouraging  than  he. 


XVII 

THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN 

JUST  below  our  garden  was  a  five  acre  meadow  which 
sloped  gently  south  and  southwest.  It  was  protected 
on  the  north  and  northwest  by  our  buildings  and  the  grove 
beyond,  and  naturally  in  the  winter  the  snow  melted  off 
there  when  it  was  still  abundant  in  most  places.  It  was 
a  fertile  meadow  containing  about  an  even  mixture  of 
clover  and  timothy  and  remained  green  through  the  win- 
ter. While  the  same  thing  doubtless  occurred  at  times 
every  winter,  I  especially  remember  the  winter  I  was 
eight  years  old  that  some  spots  in  this  meadow  were  bare 
nearly  all  of  the  time,  though  there  was  much  snow  over  the 
country  in  general.  This  became  a  favorite  feeding  place 
for  many  birds.  In  fact,  it  was  the  one  spot  that  kept  hun- 
dreds of  birds  from  going  hungry  or  perhaps  from  starving 
that  winter.  While  other  birds  came  to  this  meadow  by 
twos  and  threes  at  various  times  in  the  day,  along  about 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  prairie  chickens  usually  began 
to  arrive  in  flocks  of  from  a  dozen  to  several  hundred. 
Often  one  could  count  as  many  as  five  or  six  hundred 
prairie  chickens  feeding  there. 

As  many  of  my  readers  have  never  seen  prairie  chickens, 
I  wish  to  say  that  this  bird  is  a  scratcher.  It  belongs  to 
the  grouse  branch  of  the  family  and  in  size  is  about  as 

111 


112     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

large  as  a  guinea  fowl.  In  the  early  history  of  our 
country  prairie  chickens  bred  by  the  millions  in  parts  of 
Illinois,  Iowa,  Nebraska,  Kansas,  and  the  country  border- 
ing on  those  States.  Like  most  of  their  family  they  do  not 
fear  the  cold  and,  except  on  the  plains,  seldom  migrate 
more  than  a  few  miles,  if  at  all.  They  used  to  gather  in 
our  meadow  and  spend  hours  running  about  eating  grass 
and  picking  up  such  hibernating  worms  or  grubs  as  they 
were  able  to  scratch  out  of  the  frozen  ground.  They  were 
an  interesting  lot  of  birds,  and  were  so  cheery  and  happy 
that  we  would  not  shoot  them  ourselves,  and  did  not  per- 
mit anyone  else  to  do  so. 

Our  garden  was  surrounded  by  an  Osage  Orange  hedge 
that  had  been  trimmed  carefully  and  was  so  thick  that 
one  could  scarcely  see  through  it.  It  was  an  easy  thing 
to  slip  along  under  cover  of  this  hedge  and  get  within 
fifty  or  seventy-five  yards  of  the  prairie  chickens  to  watch 
them  at  their  feeding.  They  were  sociable  birds,  always 
good  natured.  Never  once  at  such  seasons  did  I  see  fight- 
ing or  quarreling  in  the  flock. 

In  those  days  we  as  well  as  practically  all  our  neighbors 
ate  prairie  chicken,  but  we  did  not  care  to  shoot  them  be- 
cause we  did  not  wish  to  frighten  them  away.  We  rec- 
ognized that  most  of  them  had  been  reared  on  the  prairie 
forty  or  fifty  miles  away,  and  had  gathered  in  our  part 
of  the  country  in  the  winter  only  because  they  could  there 
secure  more  food  and  protection.  But  we  could  not  help 
hoping  that  some  of  them  would  remain  behind  and  nest 
on  our  place,  especially  if  we  did  not  disturb  them  over- 
much. 

In  the  early  morning  and  late  evening  those  prairie 
chickens  would  fly  to  the  various  cornfields  in  the  neigh- 


THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN  113 

borhood  and,  alighting  on  the  corn  shocks,  scratch  into 
the  ears  and  help  themselves  to  the  corn.  I  presume  they 
must  have  eaten  a  considerable  amount  of  corn,  but  corn 
was  cheap  and  every  one  had  plenty,  and  I  do  not  think 
it  was  missed  much. 

We  used  to  make  traps  of  lath,  building  them  four 
square,  a  little  wider  at  the  bottom  than  at  the  top,  making 
them  about  two  and  a  half  or  three  feet  high.     At  the 
bottom  these  traps  were  as  large  each  way  as  a  common 
lath  is  long.     The  top  consisted  of  a  trap  door  made  of 
lath  and  so  hung  that  if  a  bird  lighted  on  one  half  of  it, 
it  would  trip  at  once  and  let  the  bird  slide  down  into  the 
trap  while  a  weight  on  the  other  half  of  the  top  imme- 
diately closed  this  trap  door.    Pieces  of  lath  were  nailed 
every  few  inches  around  the  edge  of  the  trap  and  were 
sharpened  at  the  top  so  that  ears  of  corn  could  be  stuck 
on  them.     A  little  corn  was  shelled  and  thrown  inside 
and  a  few  grains  scattered  around  the  outside.     On  cold 
icy  days  when  it  was  difficult  to  scratch  their  way  into  the 
corn  in  the  shock  this  was  very  tempting  to  the  prairie 
chicken.    They  would  first  eat  the  corn  scattered  on  the 
snow  and  then  hop  up  on  the  trap  expecting  to  pick  the 
corn  off  of  the  ears  that  were  stuck  on  the  edge.     Of 
course  they  could  not  alight  on  the  edge  of  the  trap  as 
the  ears  were  too  close  together,  and  since  the  top  looked 
perfectly  secure  they  alighted  there  and  fell  through  the 
trap  door.    Sometimes  we  would  catch  as  many  as  a  dozen 
or  more  in  a  single  trap  in  one  day.    This  method  of  catch- 
ing them  had  at  least  the  advantages  of  not  frightening 
the  others  and  of  not  crippling  any  that  were  not  killed. 

As  the  broad  prairies  began  to  be  settled  and  the  tall 
grass  plowed  under,  prairie  chickens  lost  their  best  breed- 


114    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

ing  grounds  and  soon  began  to  grow  scarce.  Now  where 
we  used  to  see  thousands  every  day  it  is  the  exception  if 
we  see  a  dozen  in  a  year's  time.  It  seems  too  bad  that  the 
progress  of  man  should  always  work  the  extermination  of 
the  best  of  our  wildlings. 

But  to  return  to  my  story.  As  the  winter  wore  away 
and  the  snow  melted  off  the  prairie  chickens  began  to 
depart  for  their  nesting  grounds,  but  as  we  had  hoped, 
all  did  not  go.  Both  on  our  farm  and  that  of  our  next 
neighbor  there  were  wet  places  where  the  slough  grass 
had  grown  five  or  six  feet  tall.  This  grass  did  not  make 
good  hay,  neither  did  it  afford  first  class  pasture.  As  long 
as  we  had  plenty  of  blue  grass  pasture  for  the  cattle  and 
of  timothy  and  clover  for  hay  this  grass  was  seldom  dis- 
turbed except  to  cut  enough  of  it  to  top  out  other  stacks. 
It  did  not  take  the  prairie  chickens  long  to  locate  these 
places. 

With  the  first  bright  spring  mornings,  even  before  the 
snow  drifts  were  all  gone,  I  used  to  be  awakened  at  day- 
break by  the  crowing  or  rather  booming  of  the  prairie 
cocks  as  they  strutted  about  over  the  meadows  and  made 
love  to  the  hens.  In  the  springtime  the  cock  becomes  as 
proud  and  quarrelsome  as  a  turkey  gobbler.  He  struts 
about  in  the  early  morning  uttering  a  half  crow,  half 
boom,  heavy  and  loud  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  size  of 
the  bird.  On  a  crisp  frosty  spring  morning  this  can  be 
heard  for  two  or  three  miles.  I  used  to  like  to  slip  around 
the  fields  and  watch  these  birds  strutting  and  crowing 
about  among  the  hens,  attempting  to  win  them.  At  such 
times  the  cocks  are  apt  to  clash  frequently  and  fight  like 
demons. 

By  the  middle  of  April  we  used  to  find  nests  on  the 


THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN  11$ 

ground  in  this  tall  slough  grass.  These  nests  were  de- 
pressions scratched  in  the  ground,  but  there  was  always 
enough  grass  and  leaves  scratched  together  so  that  the 
eggs  were  well  protected.  The  eggs  were  almost  identi- 
cal with  guinea  fowl  eggs  in  both  size  and  shape,  and  it  was 
not  uncommon  to  find  as  many  as  fifteen  in  a  nest.  Not 
realizing  how  much  mischief  we  were  doing,  we  boys  used 
to  hunt  these  nests  and  take  the  eggs  home  and  boil  them. 
In  flavor  they  tasted  very  much  like  a  guinea's  egg,  tho 
if  anything  they  were  of  even  better  quality.  I  was  in  East- 
ern Nebraska  one  spring  when  a  prairie  fire  swept  over  the 
country.  Undoubtedly  there  were  few  old  birds  killed 
by  this  fire  and  the  young  had  not  yet  hatched,  but  one 
could  walk  over  the  black  and  charred  ground,  especially  in 
the  low  places  where  the  tall  grass  had  been  abundant,  and 
find  eggs  literally  by  the  hundreds.  We  gathered  all  of 
these  we  could  use.  Some  were  roasted,  some  were  merely 
scorched,  and  some  seemingly  were  not  injured  at  all. 

As  prairie  chickens  grew  scarce  at  home  we  began  to 
follow  the  practise  of  leaving  the  grass  for  the  prairie 
chickens'  special  use  in  one  little  slough  that  ran  through 
a  field  which  we  usually  planted  to  corn.  There  it  was  that 
I  got  my  first  idea  of  the  injury  crows  do  other  birds.  We 
were  plowing,  Brother  John  and  I,  on  the  same  land,  one 
team  following  the  other,  when  an  old  black  crow  alighted 
on  a  tall  fence  stake  at  the  edge  of  this  slough.  Presently 
he  hopped  off  on  the  ground  and  we  noticed  a  strange 
sight.  He  would  peck  at  something  and  flutter  and  flap 
his  wings  and  then  jump  back.  Presently  we  saw  an  old 
prairie  hen  attempting  to  drive  this  black  rascal  away 
from  this  piece  of  ground.  She  would  peck  and  scratch 
and  pound  with  her  wings  equal  to  any  old  setting  hen, 


116    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

but  the  crow  usually  managed  to  keep  out  of  her  reach. 
Finally  he  half  jumped  and  half  flew  over  her  head,  made 
a  grab  at  something,  then  flew  back  upon  the  stake  and 
we  could  see  clearly  that  he  had  an  egg  in  his  mouth. 
Now  the  secret  was  out.  He  had  found  this  prairie  hen's 
nest  and  she  was  defending  her  eggs.  Knowing  that  it 
was  useless  to  interfere  in  a  case  of  this  kind  we  went 
on  with  our  plowing  and  watched  these  birds  as  much  as 
possible.  The  trouble  continued  for  an  hour  or  more  and 
we  knew  that  the  crow  got  another  egg.  Finally,  per- 
haps because  his  hunger  was  satisfied  for  the  time  or 
possibly  because  he  had  received  more  punishment  from  the 
prairie  hen  than  he  wished  he  left  the  place. 

We  had  noticed  that  he  alighted  on  an  unusually  tall 
fence  stake  before  attempting  to  reach  the  nest  and 
perched  there  while  eating  the  eggs  that  he  succeeded  in 
stealing.  When  we  went  to  dinner,  Brother  John,  who 
was  an  expert  at  trapping  hawks  and  owls,  brought  a  steel 
trap  back  to  the  field  with  him  and  set  it  on  the  top  of 
this  stake,  driving  the  ferrule  of  the  chain  into  the  hard 
wood  of  the  stake.  About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon 
this  old  black  crow  alighted  on  the  ground  near  this  nest. 
After  trudging  about  for  a  time  he  managed  to  get  another 
egg  before  the  mother  discovered  him.  One  egg  was  all 
that  he  secured  before  she  rushed  to  the  defense  of  her 
nest.  Realizing  that  he  would  be  safe  from  attack  while 
perched  on  top  of  this  stake  the  crow  alighted  on  it  with- 
out stopping  to  look.  Crows  very  seldom  alight  anywhere 
without  very  carefully  scrutinizing  the  place,  but  like  most 
people  who  are  engaged  in  rascality  he  lost  his  good  judg- 
ment for  once,  and  once  was  all  that  was  necessary.  The 
trap  caught  him  by  both  legs  and  held  him  securely.  We 


PRAIRIE  CHICKENS 

Male  in  Foreground— Strutting 


THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN  117 

left  our  teams  and  ran  to  him  in  triumph,  beat  his  head 
over  the  stake  and  hung  his  carcass  from  its  top,  and  from 
that  time  our  prairie  chicken's  nest  was  secure  from  moles- 
tation. 

Examination  showed  that  there  were  still  six  eggs  un- 
broken and  that  the  bird  had  not  begun  to  sit.  We  knew 
better  than  to  touch  the  prairie  chicken's  eggs  or  to  get  too 
near  the  nest,  for  we  did  not  want  the  mother  to  desert 
it.  So  we  contented  ourselves  with  marking  the  place  so 
that  we  could  easily  find  it  again.  The  mother,  now  that 
her  tormentor  was  gone,  laid  several  more  eggs  and  hatched 
the  last  brood  of  prairie  chickens  I  ever  knew  to  be  raised 
on  our  farm. 

Little  prairie  chickens  look  very  much  like  little  quail, 
except  that  they  are  larger.  Any  one  who  is  familiar  with 
newly  hatched  guinea  fowls  knows  about  what  a  little 
prairie  chicken  looks  like,  for,  I  believe,  if  one  should  mix 
the  eggs  of  the  two  birds  together,  when  they  hatched  he 
would  have  difficulty  distinguishing  the  young  birds  from 
each  other  until  they  were  perhaps  a  week  old  and  the 
wing  and  tail  feathers  started  to  grow. 

Like  young  quails  they  have  the  faculty  of  hiding  any- 
where, anytime,  should  danger  come.  The  mother  could 
be  leading  the  young  birds  through  the  grass,  all  of  them 
as  busy  as  could  be,  catching  young  grasshoppers  and 
small  bugs,  but  let  me  show  my  head  and  away  she  would 
go  with  a  whir  that  would  startle  any  one  and  not  a  young 
bird  was  to  be  seen.  I  have  spent  half  an  hour  looking 
for  the  young  birds  when  I  knew  at  least  a  dozen  were  con- 
cealed within  ten  or  twelve  feet  of  me  and  still  would  not 
be  able  to  find  one.  After  becoming  more  familiar  with 
them  I  found  that  they  not  only  squatted  flat  on  the  ground 


118     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

where  their  peculiar  stripes  of  various  shades  of  brown 
blended  perfectly  with  the  grass  and  earth,  but  should  I 
get  too  near  and  they  saw  my  eye  was  not  on  them  they 
did  not  hesitate  to  run  six  or  eight  feet  like  a  streak  and 
then  again  squat  on  the  ground  and  hide.  I  used  to  be 
almost  afraid  to  walk  about  lest  I  step  on  some  little  fel- 
lows that  might  be  hiding  under  my  feet,  but  I  never 
had  this  misfortune,  probably  because  they  were  shrewd 
enough  to  slip  out  of  the  way  of  my  foot  if  it  got  too 
near. 

By  the  time  they  were  two  weeks  old  their  wing  and 
tail  feathers  had  grown  amazingly  and  they  were  beginning 
to  fly.  At  three  weeks,  while  not  nearly  half  grown,  they 
could  fly  as  well  as  their  mother,  and  if  anything  dis- 
turbed them  they  usually  flew  away  in  a  flock. 

Prairie  chickens  are  now  scarce  in  almost  every  part 
of  the  country.  Perhaps  they  are  most  numerous  in  the 
Dakotas,  Nebraska,  and  Northwestern  Texas  at  present. 
They  are  larger  than  the  New  England  partridge  or  pheas- 
ant, but  not  so  large  as  the  Western  sage  hen.  In  fact,  they 
are  about  the  size  of  some  of  the  grouse  that  are  found  in 
the  Rocky  Mountain  districts.  All  of  these  birds  belong  to 
the  same  family,  and  have  the  same  general  character.  All 
have  been  favorite  gama  birds,  and  under  the  relentless 
hand  of  man  are  growing  scarcer. 

Seemingly  no  one  has  successfully  domesticated  the 
prairie  chicken,  but  they  certainly  are  no  wilder  and 
should  be  no  harder  to  domesticate  than  the  guinea  of 
South  Africa ;  and  this  fowl  has  within  the  last  few  hun- 
dred years  become  almost  as  well  domesticated  as  the  com- 
mon chicken.  I  am  sure  the  prairie  chicken  is  superior  in 
almost  every  way  to  the  guinea  fowl,  and  it  is  unfortunate 


THE  PRAIRIE  CHICKEN  119 

that  no  one  has  made  a  success  of  domesticating  this 
valuable  bird. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Gallinae 

CRACID.S: — Curassows  and  Guans. 

With    the   hind    toe    inserted    on    the    level    of   the    anterior    toes,    and 

more  than  half  as  long  as  the  lateral  toe, 
MELEAGRIDIDJJ — Turkeys. 

Large,   long-necked   birds,   with  the  hind   toe   less   than   half   as   long 

as    the   lateral,   and    inserted   above   the   level   of   the   rest ;    legs   with 

spurs,    and  entire    head   unfeathered. 
ODONTOFHORID.K — American  Quails. 

Small    or    moderate-sized,     rather     short-necked     birds,     without    spurs, 

and  with  the  head  feathered;  tarsus  and  nostrils  entirely  unfeathered. 
TETRAONID^ — Grouse. 

Moderate  or  rather  large   sized  birds   with  the  taraua  at  least  partly 

feathered,  and  the  nostrils  wholly  so* 


XVIII 

THE  MOURNING  DOVE 

ONE  of  my  earliest  recollections  is  of  a  hired  man  by 
the  name  of  Dan  Scott  who  used  to  take  a  great 
deal  of  interest  in  me,  whether  for  his  own  pleasure  or  for 
mine  I  am  not  sure,  but  probably  for  both.  Every  eve- 
ning he  would  take  me  on  his  knees  and  tell  me  "ring- 
tails" for  an  hour  or  so,  and  they  certainly  were  "ring- 
tails." He  it  was  who  soberly  informed  me  that  if  I  put 
salt  on  a  bird's  tail  I  could  catch  it.  I  supposed  any  or- 
dinarily bright  boy  ought  to  have  seen  the  joke,  but  with 
me  it  was  a  serious  matter;  and  I  used  to  spend  hours 
slipping  through  the  woods  and  along  the  hedge  fences 
with  both  hands  full  of  salt,  fully  determined  to  put  salt 
on  the  tails  of  all  the  birds  in  the  neighborhood  so  that 
I  could  catch  them. 

I  suppose  this  idea  of  being  able  to  catch  birds  appeals 
to  all  boys.  My  good  mother  always  told  me  that  in 
heaven  the  birds  will  be  perfectly  tame  and  that  we  shall 
not  have  to  keep  them  in  cages  in  order  to  have  them  for 
pets.  Most  of  my  pet  birds  were  gentle  enough  to  come 
to  me  in  any  place  and  at  any  time,  though  they  flew  in 
the  open  the  same  as  any  other  bird;  but  the  experience 
I  am  now  to  tell  came  after  my  dismal  failure  to  tame 
birds  by  putting  salt  on  their  tails. 

120 


THE  MOURNING  DOVE  121 

You  may  think  that  this  putting  of  salt  on  a  bird's  tail 
has  nothing  to  do  with  teaching  you  how  to  know  birds, 
but  it  certainly  did  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  my 
learning  to  recognize  them,  for  I  am  sure  that  if  I  had 
not  been  simple  enough  to  believe  that  Dan  Scott  meant 
everything  he  said  and  if  I  had  not  set  out  to  carry  it 
into  practise,  I  never  would  have  met  so  many  interest- 
ing birds,  nor  would  I  have  seen  so  much  of  their  family 
life. 

I  remember  very  well  that  one  day  I  was  slipping  very 
quietly  along  the  Osage  Orange  hedge  that  divided  our 
pastures  when  suddenly  a  turtle  dove  appeared  on  the 
ground  not  three  feet  in  front  of  me  and  began  wallowing 
and  fluttering  as  if  in  great  terror,  but  wholly  unable  to 
get  away.  This  was  a  wholly  new  procedure  to  me.  Salt 
and  tails  alike  were  forgotten  and  I  made  a  wild  scramble 
to  catch  the  crippled  bird.  Down  I  went  on  the  ground 
half  a  dozen  times,  catching  only  a  handful  of  grass,  the 
poor  bird  having  been  able  to  get  just  a  few  inches  from 
my  hand.  I  was  perspiring  and  worn  out  with  excitement 
and  effort  when  after  chasing  this  bird  back  and  forth 
for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  it  suddenly  rose  and  flew  off 
as  nimbly  as  could  be.  By  this  time  we  were  on  the  bank 
of  the  brook  where  there  was  a  little  point  with  a  steep 
slope  on  both  sides.  I  had  maneuvered  to  get  the  bird  to 
this  point  because  I  know  it  would  fall  off  the  bank  and 
then  I  would  have  a  better  chance  to  catch  the  poor  thing. 
On  looking  around  I  discovered  that  I  was  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  from  where  we  started  the  chase.  I  knew 
just  where  it  had  begun,  for  there  lay  my  new  straw 
hat,  with  purple  straws  woven  in  it,  where  I  had  lost  it  at 
the  first  dive  after  the  dove.  I  remember  this  very  clearly, 


122    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

for  this  hat  was  a  special  treasure  of  mine  which  had 
been  bought  only  two  days  before,  and  it  was  the  first  hat 
I  had  ever  seen  made  from  white  straw  with  a  purple 
straw  woven  in  every  inch  or  so. 

I  trudged  as  fast  as  my  four-year-old  legs  would  carry 
me  to  get  my  hat,  but  to  my  surprize  when  I  went  to  pick 
it  up  this  poor  crippled  dove  fell  almost  at  my  feet  again. 
I  was  sure  this  time  that  she  was  mortally  hurt.  I  had 
seen  birds  that  had  been  shot  make  a  desperate  effort 
and  fly  for  a  distance  only  to  fall  utterly  exhausted  at 
last.  Clutching  my  hat  in  one  hand  I  gave  chase  again  but 
some  way  or  another  when  we  had  gotten  far  enough  away 
this  dove  managed  to  rise  and  fly  again.  This  time  I  went 
home  to  tell  mother  my  troubles  and  ask  her  about  the 
bird.  You  may  imagine  my  chagrin  when  she  told  me  that 
this  bird  was  not  hurt  at  all,  but  was  merely  feigning  in 
order  to  lead  me  away  from  her  nest.  She  told  me  that 
if  I  would  pay  no  attention  to  the  bird  but  looked  sharp  I 
undoubtedly  would  find  a  nest  in  the  hedge  very  close  to  the 
spot  where  I  first  found  the  bird. 

As  soon  as  she  could  get  her  work  in  condition  so  that 
she  could  leave,  she  went  with  me  to  help  find  the  nest, 
for  no  barefooted  boy  would  dare  to  get  near  enough  to  an 
Osage  Orange  hedge  to  look  into  a  bird's  nest.  Sure 
enough,  in  the  forks  of  an  old  limb  that  had  been  stuck 
through  the  hedge  to  fill  up  a  hole  where  some  cow  at 
one  time  or  another  had  broken  through  was  a  dove's  nest, 
the  first  one  I  remember  having  seen.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  about  the  poorest  excuse  for  a  bird's  nest  imag- 
inable. All  there  was  to  it  was  a  flat  saucer  of  sticks  with 
a  few  straws  and  weeds  stuck  in  to  form  a  rim.  In  this 
nest  were  two  almost  perfectly  round  snow  white  eggs. 


THE  MOURNING  DOVE  12S 

We  had  plenty  of  pigeons  in  our  barn  and  I  was  familiar 
with  pigeons'  nests  and  eggs.  I  remember  well  that  it 
dawned  on  my  mind  that  this  dove"  must  be  a  pigeon,  be- 
cause the  nest  and  the  eggs  looked  so  much  like  those  of 
a  pigeon.  Mother  told  me  that  they  were  of  the  same 
family  and  that  there  was  another  member  of  this  family 
that  used  to  be  very  plentiful  but  was  now  growing  scarce, 
at  least  in  our  Iowa  woods.  On  the  way  home,  if  my 
memory  serves  me  right,  she  showed  me  a  flock  of  thir- 
teen of  these  wild  pigeons.  That  was  the  only  flock  of 
wild  pigeons  I  ever  remember  seeing,  tho  I  occasionally 
saw  a  pair  or  a  single  bird  after  that.  But  I  shall  never 
forget  the  wonderful  stories  father  and  mother  used  to 
tell  me  of  the  wild  pigeons  and  their  roosts  in  the  Ozark 
regions  in  Missouri  when  they  were  first  married.  These 
pigeons  used  to  pass  over  their  house  in  such  flocks  as  at 
times  to  obscure  the  sun.  In  the  morning  until  eight  or 
nine  o'clock  they  would  fly,  flock  after  flock,  from  their 
roosts  to  the  fields  and  meadows,  and  about  an  hour  be- 
fore sundown  they  would  begin  to  return  to  the  roosting 
place.  So  low  did  they  fly  and  in  such  dense  flocks  that 
one  could  hardly  throw  a  stone  into  the  flock  without  bring- 
ing down  a  bird. 

The  roost  was  a  large  oak  grove  only  a  short  distance 
from  home.  There  the  birds  roosted  in  untold  thousands 
alighting  on  the  branches  so  thickly  that  they  would  often 
break  them  down.  Father  said  that  in  the  roost  at  night 
the  cooing  of  pigeons  and  the  flapping  of  the  wings  of 
birds  that  were  coming  in  late  made  a  noise  so  great  that 
even  the  report  of  a  gun  was  not  noticed  by  the  pigeons. 
People  would  go  into  this  roost  and  kill  them  by  the 
sackful  with  guns,  clubs,  rocks,  nets,  and  in  other  ways. 


124     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Finally,  when  the  railroad  entered  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try, the  pigeons  were  slaughtered  by  the  tens  of  thousands 
and  shipped  to  the  city  markets.  This  pigeon  is  now 
totally  extinct.  It  was  one  of  our  most  interesting  Amer- 
ican birds  and  was  found  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
Mississippi  valley,  but  like  the  buffalo  it  had  to  go  before 
the  hunter's  gun. 

Doves  and  pigeons  belong  to  the  family  Columbidae. 
They  are  peaceable  birds,  and  look  much  alike.  In  fact, 
their  shape  and  appearance  are  so  distinct  that  any  one  who 
has  seen  a  domestic  pigeon  should  at  once  recognize  any 
member  of  the  family  even  tho  he  does  not  know  its  variety 
name.  All  these  birds  are  largely  seed  eaters.  So  far  as  I 
know  they  do  not  eat  many  insects  or  meat  of  any  kind. 
They  do  eat  some  green  vegetable  matter  and  fruit,  but 
mostly  seeds.  When  the  wheat  and  oats  were  in  the  shock, 
farmers  often  complained  because  the  birds  congregated  in 
the  grain  fields  and  fattened  themselves  on  the  ripened 
grain. 

The  common  turtle  dove  is  one  of  the  smaller  birds  of  this 
family.  It  is  of  a  beautiful  pinkish  drab  and  brownish 
above  with  a  bluish  gray  head,  and  is  very  graceful.  It  is 
found  over  most  of  the  United  States.  One  of  its  char- 
acteristics is  the  fact  that  when  it  is  startled  and  flies  up 
unexpectedly  it  flaps  its  wings  together  with  a  loud  report 
that  startles  you  so  that  you  are  not  able  to  do  anything 
until  it  is  safe  out  of  your  way.  Yet  if  this  bird  sees  you 
approach  it  will  slip  away  as  quietly  as  a  shadow  without 
the  least  sound  of  its  wings.  They  usually  nest  in  bushes 
and  low  trees,  often  building  on  large  limbs.  They 
do  not  usually  gather  in  droves  until  toward  autumn; 
the  last  brood  of  young  is  able  to  fly,  one  often  sees 


THE  MOURNING  DOVE  125 

them  in  flocks  in  the  grain  fields.  They  are  recognized  as 
game  birds  and  are  protected  by  law,  and  are  on  the  in- 
crease in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

They  are  silent  birds  except  for  their  love  song,  which 
is  a  sort  of  a  coo-ow,  coo,  coo.  Because  of  the  mournful- 
ness  of  these  notes  the  birds  are  often  called  mourning 
doves.  There  are  several  species  of  doves,  but  the  habits  of 
all  are  similar.  Their  notes  are  so  alike  that  a  person  who 
is  familiar  with  one  will  recognize  that  of  another.  Never- 
theless each  variety  has  a  distinguishing  note  so  that  any 
one  who  really  knows  the  woods  can  recognize  at  once 
what  variety  of  dove  he  hears  cooing. 

From  the  earliest  days  of  history  the  dove  has  been  a 
favorite,  and  has  long  been  used  as  the  emblem  of  peace 
and  of  all  that  is  pure  and  good. 


XIX 

JTHE  TURKEY  BUZZARD 

SOME  day  when  you  are  lying  on  the  ground  looking 
up  into  the  clear  blue  of  heaven,  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  see  a  great  silent  bird  floating  overhead  in  wide  cir- 
cles without  so  much  as  a  flutter  of  a  wing.  As  you  watch 
he  will  sail  up  and  down,  back  and  forth,  hither  and  yon- 
der, occasionally  tipping  one  wing  upward  and  then  the 
other  as  he  wishes  to  change  his  direction,  always  and 
ever  sailing,  sailing,  sailing.  I  think  no  bird  I  knew  as 
a  child  seemed  so  unreal  and  so  wonderful  as  this  bird. 
Hardly  a  day  passed,  summer  or  winter,  when  at  some  time 
in  the  day  I  could  not  see  one  or  more  of  these  great  birds, 
but  always  they  were  sailing  so  high  in  the  air  that  I  could 
tell  nothing  about  their  appearance.  Father  and  mother 
told  me  they  were  turkey  buzzards — "turkey"  because  their 
head  was  bare  like  the  head  of  a  turkey,  and  "buzzard"  be- 
cause of  fancied  resemblance  to  a  hawk.  These  buzzards 
are  a  type  of  degenerate  hawks.  I  say  "degenerate"  be- 
cause they  have  lost  the  bold  hunter  spirit  of  the  hawks 
and  have  taken  to  the  cowardly  method  of  stealing  or 
sneaking  up  on  anything  that  they  may  desire  for  food. 
Occasionally  they  kill  for  food,  but  when  they  do  it  is 
either  some  helpless  half  grown  bird  or  some  injured  or 
crippled  animal.  Seldom  do  they  attack  anything  that  has 

126 


THE  TURKEY  BUZZARD  127 

size  or  power  enough  even  to  make  an  attempt  to  get 
away.  Because  of  this  lack  of  spirit  they  have  found  food 
hard  to  secure  and  have  degenerated  into  eating  carrion. 
No  animal  can  be  so  far  decayed  or  smell  so  bad  that  it  is 
not  considered  good  food  by  these  birds.  It  is  in  the 
search  of  food  that  they  are  sailing,  sailing,  sailing,  and 
they  fly  at  the  great  heights  they  do  so  that  they  may  see 
for  miles  in  every  direction.  Doubtless  no  bird  has  a 
keener  sight  than  turkey  buzzards.  They  are  able  to 
recognize  a  dead  animal  at  a  distance  of  several  miles,  pos- 
sibly further.  One  instance  of  my  childhood  days  nicely 
illustrates  this  fact. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  a  cold  winter  and  food  had  been 
scarce  for  all  of  the  birds,  both  the  meat  eaters  and  those 
that  fed  on  seeds.  The  snow  piled  deep  over  everything 
and  the  thermometer  seemed  unable  to  rise  above  fifteen 
or  twenty  below  zero  day  or  night.  We  were  so  unfor- 
tunate as  to  have  an  animal  die ;  as  the  ground  was  frozen 
too  deeply  to  think  of  burying  it,  we  simply  dragged  it 
off  into  a  field  at  considerable  distance  from  the  house  and 
left  it  on  the  snow.  No  one  had  supposed  there  were 
any  buzzards  in  the  country  during  this  cold  weather,  in 
fact,  at  no  time  in  summer  or  winter  had  we  seen  more 
than  two  or  three  buzzards  at  a  time.  Surely  no  more  than 
a  half  dozen  of  these  birds  lived  within  ten  miles  of  us. 
Yet  within  twenty-four  hours  of  the  death  of  this  animal 
twenty-three  buzzards  were  feeding  on  the  carcass.  It  was 
a  mystery  to  everyone  where  they  came  from.  That  was 
the  first  time  I  saw  these  birds  at  close  hand. 

The  carcass  in  the  pasture  was  only  two  or  three  rods 
from  the  hedge.  It  was  easy  to  slip  up  behind  this  hedge 
and  watch  the  buzzards  feed  only  two  or  three  rods  away. 


128     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

A  few  crows  came  to  the  carcass  now  and  then,  as  food  of 
all  kinds  was  scarce;  and  when  they  came  the  cowardly 
buzzards  always  gave  way  with  squeals  and  demonstrations 
of  anger  and  disappointment.  As  soon  as  the  crows  had 
completed  their  meal  and  left  the  carcass,  again  the  buz- 
zards fell  to  greedily.  They  seemed  to  eat  like  famished 
creatures,  fighting  and  eating  as  rapidly  as  possible.  When 
they  were  gorged  to  the  limit,  they  merely  hopped  off  a 
few  feet  and  waited  until  they  were  able  to  eat  more. 
Evidently  it  is  the  custom  of  these  birds  to  feed  raven- 
ously when  food  can  be  found  and  then  to  go  long  periods 
without  food.  Doubtless  the  fact  that  they  can  fly  without 
expending  energy  in  flapping  their  wings  enables  them 
to  live  on  much  less  food  than  other  birds  whose  flying  is 
vigorous  exercise. 

The  second  day  after  this  animal  had  been  dragged  to 
the  pasture  a  bald  eagle  appeared  on  the  scene,  the  first 
I  had  ever  seen,  and  for  two  or  three  hours,  while  he  was 
feeding,  not  a  buzzard  dared  venture  closer  than  fifteen 
or  twenty  feet.  If  an  overly  anxious  buzzard  came  a  lit- 
tle too  close,  all  the  eagle  had  to  do  was  to  straighten  up 
to  full  height  and  the  cowardly  bird  ran  like  a  rat  from 
a  dog. 

Until  some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  when  I  was  rais- 
ing poultry  quite  extensively,  I  had  supposed  these  birds 
never  ate  anything  but  carrion.  At  that  time  we  had  a 
number  of  sick  chickens — not  sick  enough  to  die,  but 
half  blind  with  swollen  heads  and  so  weak  that  they  stood 
about  paying  little  attention  to  anything  that  was  going 
on  about  them.  Suddenly  one  day  two  buzzards  alighted 
in  the  poultry  yard  and  each  attacked  one  of  these  poor 
sick  fowl.  Since  then  I  have  seen  buzzards  follow  for 


r 

o 


3   o 

§   g 
o 

a 

Cfl 

M 


YOUNG  GREAT  HORNED  OWL 

Photo  by  Frank  C.  Pellett 

(See  Chapter  22) 


THE  TURKEY  BUZZARD  129 

hours  animals  that  evidently  were  so  sick  they  could  not 
live  long,  watching  for  the  end  to  come. 

These  birds  are  wise  in  their  own  way,  because  they 
soon  learn  what  it  means  to  see  a  man  start  out  with  a 
gun.  Strange  to  say,  most  States  protect  them  simply  be- 
cause they  are  scavengers;  and  their  flesh  is  so  filled  with 
poisons  caused  by  their  food  that  no  living  creature  will 
eat  them  unless  driven  to  it  by  extreme  hunger.  For 
this  reason  people  seldom  shoot  buzzards.  I  have  known 
these  birds  to  follow  a  hunter  for  hours,  hoping  to  see  where 
he  secreted  any  game  he  might  kill;  in  case  anything  was 
hidden,  or  escaped  after  being  mortally  wounded,  the  buz- 
zards would  eat  it  in  his  absence. 

In  the  Southern  part  of  the  United  States  buzzards  are 
exceedingly  numerous.  In  Texas  and  in  Mississippi  and 
Louisiana  I  have  seen  them  by  the  thousands,  especially 
on  the  outskirts  of  cities  and  about  slaughter  pens.  The 
bird  itself  is  rather  remarkable  in  many  ways.  While  it 
weighs  only  six  and  a  half  or  seven  pounds  it  has  a  spread 
of  wings  of  at  least  six  feet.  The  entire  body  is  covered 
with  long  loose  feathers  which  make  it  appear  much  larger 
than  it  really  is. 

In  winter  these  birds  like  to  gather  on  the  south  side 
of  a  bluff  or  in  trees  on  the  southern  border  of  a  large 
body  of  timber  where  they  can  sun  themselves.  I  have 
found  them  in  the  woods  of  Tennessee  in  flocks  of  sev- 
eral scores  sitting  sometimes  ten  or  fifteen  on  a  single  limb, 
lazily  sunning  themselves,  occasionally  yawning  and 
stretching  their  wings,  but  never  once  have  I  seen  one  of 
them  preening  his  feathers.  The  fact  is  that  at  close 
range  they  always  look  dirty  and  disheveled.  I  am  sure 
the  buzzards  are  as  filthy  in  their  habits  as  they  are  in  their 


130    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

food.  In  fact,  it  is  true  of  birds  as  of  people  that  bad 
habits  of  one  kind  are  quite  sure  to  develop  equally  bad 
habits  of  another  kind.  Occasionally  as  a  child  I  used  to 
find  buzzard  feathers  in  the  spring  when  they  were  molt- 
ing and  scattering  their  great  quills  here  and  there  over 
the  fields.  It  was  easy  to  recognize  such  feathers  be- 
cause of  their  stench.  They  smell  like  the  food  the  buz- 
zard eats. 

"Not  so  many  years  ago  I  found  my  first  buzzard's  nest. 
It  was  on  the  ground,  as  all  buzzards*  nests  are,  at  the 
end  of  a  log.  Buzzards  do  not  always  build  at  the  end  of 
a  log,  however.  If  it  is  hollow  they  may  build  even  two 
or  three  feet  inside,  or  they  may  build  at  the  base  of  a 
stump  or  a  bush.  I  have  known  them  to  build  on  a  dry 
tussock  in  a  swamp  so  that  they  could  be  handy  to  the 
young  cranes  and  herons  that  were  near  by.  In  fact,  buz- 
zards have  a  great  preference  for  nesting  in  the  midst  of  a 
colony  of  nesting  herons.  There  they  feed  on  the  eggs  and 
joung  herons  without  having  to  fly  in  search  of  food. 
I  The  nest  I  found  contained  two  eggs  about  the  size  of  the 
egga  of  a  common  turkey,  but  they  were  a  dull  greenish" 
-white,  and  the  shell  looked  thick  and  rough  and  was 
splashed  here  and  there  with  a  few  brown  spots.  After 
these  eggs  hatched  an  occasional  hour  of  watching  en- 
abled me  to  see  the  mother  feed  her  young.  This  she 
did  by  disgorging  her  food  into  the  young  birds'  mouths. 
When  a  buzzard's  nest  is  disturbed  the  old  birds  will  often 
fly  overhead  and  attempt  to  disgorge  food  on  the  dis- 
turber, knowing  that  the  smell  will  be  sufficient  to  drive 
any  man  from  the  vicinity. 

There  are  a  number  of  varieties  of  buzzards,  but  the 
common  turkey  buzzard  is  most  common  all  over  the 


THE  TURKEY  BUZZARD  531 

country.  In  California  we  have  a  giant  buzzard  that  looks 
much  like  a  turkey,  even  having  white  bars  on  the  wings; 
but  our  common  turkey  buzzard  is  a  dull  brown  color 
without  beauty  of  any  kind.  Should  you  ever  get  near  a 
turkey  buzzard  you  will  have  no  trouble  in  recognizing 
him  by  his  bald  red  head  and  neck.  This  head  and  neck 
looks  very  much  like  the  head  and  neck  of  a  common  tur- 
key. The  only  birds  that  you  could  mistake  for  the  Com- 
mon buzzard,  either  in  flight  or  at  any  other  time,  is  the 
giant  black  buzzard  or  carrion  crow  and  one  or  two  Of  the 
hawks.  In  flight  all  of  these  birds  soar  very  much  alike. 
I  learned  to  recognize  the  difference  when  a  child  because 
all  of  the  hawks  find  it  necessary  to  flap  their  wings  oc- 
casionally. In  fact,  I  never  saw  a  hawk  soar  more  than 
a  few  minutes  without  flapping  his  wings,  but  buzzards  will 
often  fly  for  an  hour  without  doing  so.  No  one  need 
have  any  difficulty  distinguishing  buzzards  from  the  car- 
rion crow  because  these  latter  birds  have  a  square  instead 
of  a  rounded  tail,  and  the  head  is  black. 


XX 

tTHE  BALD  EAGLE 

1  SPENT  the  summer  of  1896  on  the  banks  of  the 
Yellowstone  River  about  eight  miles  above  the  city  of 
Livingstone.  The  River  at  that  point  was  full  of  fish  of 
many  kinds.  In  fact,  suckers  were  so  plentiful  that  the 
man  with  whom  I  stayed  made  it  a  practise  each  year"  to 
take  a  wagon  and  a  pitchfork  down  to  the  edge  of  a 
shoal  and  fork  out  a  load  of  suckers  and  bury  them  about 
his  rhubarb,  currant,  and  gooseberry  bushes  as  fertilizer. 

In  a  scrubby  cottonwood  tree  near  where  I  stayed  was 
the  first  fish  hawk's  nest  I  had  ever  seen.  The  fish  hawk, 
or  osprey,  is  very  powerful  of  flight  and  feeds  on  fish.  I 
had  read  of  those  birds  many  times  and  was  pleased  to 
find  an  opportunity  to  study  them  at  first  hand. 

I  knew  that  bald  eagles  were  common  in  those  moun- 
tains. I  had  seen  the  historical  eagle's  nest  on  the  top 
of  pinnacle  rock  at  the  entrance  to  Yellowstone  National 
Park,  a  nest  that  doubtless  has  been  used  for  fifty  years 
or  more,  and  had  found  several  other  nests  in  the  moun- 
tains. But  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  any  eagles  lived 
near  us,  tho  I  should  have  known  that  inaccessible  cliffs, 
a  river  full  of  fish,  and  an  osprey's  nest  were  a  combina- 
tion a  bald  eagle  could  not  resist. 

As  I  stated  beore,  the  fish  hawk  had  selected  a  scrubby 
cottonwood  tree  for  her  home,  and  late  in  April  she  built 

132 


THE  BALD  EAGLE  133 

a  nest  not  more  than  twenty  feet  from  the  ground.  I  do 
not  believe  she  had  been  living  in  this  vicinity  long,  for 
I  had  never  noticed  her  until  about  the  time  she  began 
building.  She  would  fly  down  the  river  to  a  shallow  a 
short  way  from  where  I  stayed  and  would  then  hover  over 
the  river  very  much  as  a  sparrow  hawk  hovers  over  a 
meadow  when  he  has  seen  a  mouse.  This  hawk  would 
hang  over  that  spot  almost  motionless,  except  for  the  flap- 
ping of  her  wings,  for  what  seemed  to  be  several  minutes, 
when  suddenly  she  would  set  her  wings  and  dive  headlong 
into  the  water.  She  was  usually  forty  or  fifty  feet  above 
the  surface  when  she  made  her  dive  and  would  plunge 
completely  under  the  water  and  sometimes  remain  sub- 
merged as  long  as  a  half  minute.  Then  she  would  rise 
from  the  surface  and,  flapping  heavily,  mount  into  the 
air,  often  carrying  a  sucker  eighteen  inches  or  two  feet 
long  and  as  thick  through  as  my  arm  at  the  shoulder. 

One  day  in  May  I  was  watching  her  when  I  heard  a 
scream  in  the  direction  of  the  mountain  and  looking  around 
saw  a  bald  eagle  flying  as  rapidly  as  possible  toward  the 
hawk.  Evidently  the  hawk  had  not  been  molested  before, 
for  she  made  no  attempt  to  escape,  but  flew  directly 
toward  her  nest,  where  my  visit  that  afternoon  had  showed 
that  she  had  youngsters.  The  eagle,  being  a  more  rapid 
flyer  and  not  being  burdened  by  a  load,  gained  rapidly. 
When  within  perhaps  fifty  feet  he  again  uttered  his  scream 
of  defiance  and  struck  straight  for  the  hawk.  She  dodged 
and  the  eagle  missed.  Rising  in  a  few  short  circles  he 
again  drove  for  the  hawk  and  struck  her  full  in  the  back. 
Tho  a  handful  of  feathers  were  torn  from  her  back,  evi- 
dently the  eagle  did  not  care  to  do  real  damage  or  pos- 
sibly he  had  missed  a  direct  blow.  The  hawk  gave  a  cry 


134    KNOWING  BIRDS  .THROUGH)  STORIES 

of  fright  and  dropped  her  fish,  which  was  precisely  what 
the  eagle  intended.  She  flew  away  rapidly,  but  the  eagle, 
making  a  quick  swoop,  caught  the  fish  long  before  it 
reached  the  ground  and  bore  it  in  triumph  to  the  moun- 
tains some  two  miles  away.  As  soon  as  the  eagle  was  out 
of  sight,  the  hawk  returned  to  her  fishing.  She  had  fished 
only  a  few  moments  when  she  caught  another  fish,  which 
she  bore  safely  home  to  her  fledglings. 

This  eagle  evidently  had  its  own  fledglings  on  some  crag 
of  the  mountain  near  by.  I  tried  several  times  to  locate 
the  nest  but  did  not  succeed.  It  came  to  be  a  daily  oc- 
currence to  hear  a  scream  and  see  the  eagle  coming  from 
the  top  of  the  nearest  high  peak  toward  the  hawk  which 
it  had  discovered  flying  home  with  a  fish.  As  the  days 
went  by,  it  was  interesting  to  watch  these  two  great  birds 
match  wits.  If  the  hawk  fished  further  up  the  river,  she 
was  fairly  well  concealed  by  some  large  trees  and  usually 
could  manage  to  get  away  with  her  fish  unobserved.  On 
the  other  hand  the  water  was  deeper  here,  and  she  found 
it  hard  to  locate  her  prey.  Furthermore,  her  favorite  fish, 
the  sucker,  preferred  shallow  water.  So  she  usually  chose 
to  fish  in  the  shallows  in  full  view  of  the  watchful  eagle 
on  the  mountain  above.  When  she  made  her  catch,  how- 
ever, she  was  not  long  in  learning  to  fly  up  the  river  as 
close  to  the  surface  as  she  could,  for  in  that  way  she  could 
often  escape  the  notice  of  the  eagle.  On  the  other  hand 
if  the  eagle  failed  for  some  time  to  see  her  catch  a  fish  it 
would  take  to  the  air  and  sail  back  and  forth  high  above 
the  fishing  grounds  watching  for  the  hawk. 

After  the  one  experience  I  never  saw  the  hawk  wait  for 
the  eagle  to  strike  her  before  dropping  her  fish.  On  the 
other  hand  I  never  saw  the  eagle  force  her  to  drop  her  fish 


THE  BALD  EAGLE  135 

when  she  was  directly  over  the  water.  Evidently  the 
eagle  realized  that  there  was  danger  of  the  fish's  being  a 
loss  to  both  of  them. 

The  bald  eagle  is  our  typical  American  eagle,  being 
found  only  in  America.  Except  the  golden  eagle  and 
California  condor  it  is  our  largest  bird  of  prey,  and  is  found 
in  practically  all  parts  of  our  country.  Its  habit  of  rob- 
bing the  fish  hawk  is  practised  from  Maine  to  California. 

It  is  very  powerful  of  flight,  but  is  not  particularly  bold. 
It  catches  many  rabbits  and  other  small  animals,  and 
occasionally  a  fish.  I  have  also  seen  it  disputing  the  car- 
cass of  a  dead  horse  with  crows  and  buzzards.  Yet  both 
these  birds  recognized  their  master  in  the  eagle,  for  they 
preserved  a  respectful  distance  until  it  had  dined  and 
left  the  carcass.  Then  they  again  scrimmaged  for  its  pos- 
session. Eagles  often  live  to  a  great  age. 

It  is  interesting  to  watch  an  eagle's  nest  when  the 
fledglings  are  grown  and  ready  to  fly.  I  have  had  this 
privilege  and  tell  the  story  in  detail  in  the  history  of  a 
famous  old  golden  eagle  in  my  "Elo  the  Eagle  and  Other 
Stories/'  When  the  mother  wishes  to  teach  her  eaglets  to 
fly,  she  pushes  them  out  of  the  nest,  one  at  a  time,  and 
lets  them  flutter  and  fly  as  best  they  can.  Should  the 
fledgling  be  about  to  fall  to  the  earth,  she  quickly  swoops 
under  it,  receives  it  on  her  back,  and  mounts  high  into 
the  air  where  she  slips  from  under  it  and  again  allows  it 
to  use  its  wings.  In  this  way  it  is  only  a  short  time  till 
all  of  her  fledglings  are  able  to  fly. 

i  Bald  eagles  usually  nest  high.  Where  there  are  no  trees 
they  nest  on  cliffs ;  in  the  mountains  the  nest  is  frequently 
on  a  projecting  rock  on  the  side  of  a  cliff  or  in  some  simi- 
lar location,  inaccessible  to  man.  When  a  tall  tree  is  se- 


136    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

lected  it  is  often  in  the  midst  of  a  swamp,  on  a  small  island, 
or  in  some  equally  inaccessible  place,  and  the  nest  is  built 
of  large  sticks  placed  in  the  forks  of  a  large  tree.  It  is 
surprizing  how  large  some  of  these  sticks  are — pieces 
five  or  six  feet  long  and  two  inches  thick  not  being  un- 
usual. Grapevines  and  smaller  sticks  are  piled  on  these 
to  form  an  almost  fiat  nest.  The  same  nest  is  used  year 
after  year,  merely  a  few  sticks  being  added  by  way  of 
repair.  Even  tho  the  nest  is  robbed  the  birds  seldom 
desert  it. 

The  bald  eagle  can  scarcely  be  mistaken  for  any  other 
bird  because,  first,  it  is  larger  than  the  hawks  and  the  buz- 
zards, and,  second,  its  head  and  neck  are  snowy  white, 
something  we  never  see  in  any  other  bird  of  prey.  At  pres- 
ent the  bald  eagle  lives  mostly  in  the  timbered  regions 
near  the  coast;  but  also  in  many  places  throughout  the 
interior  of  North  America,  though  it  is  there  less  common. 


XXI 

FLEETWING  THE  SPARROW  HAWK 

THE  first  time  I  saw  him  he  was  chasing  over  the 
fields  close  in  the  wake  of  another  bird  of  almost  ex- 
actly his  own  size  but  not  quite  so  brilliantly  colored. 
Back  and  forth  they  flew,  circling  and  dashing  first  one 
way  and  then  another,  occasionally  giving  utterance  to  a 
shrill  little  cry.  Whenever  they  came  near,  all  the  small 
birds  took  to  cover  at  once.  I  probably  would  not  have 
seen  them  had  not  the  old  white  rooster  called  my  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  they  were  near.  Immediately  every 
hen  in  the  vicinity  gave  a  startled  cackle  and  started  toward 
the  chicken  house  or  into  the  brush  near  by.  This  sort  of 
thing  had  happened  so  often  before  that  I  knew  there 
must  be  some  sort  of  hawk  about.  Looking  around  I  saw 
two  birds  not  much  larger  than  doves  dashing  about  over 
the  pasture. 

"Very  well,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I  will  try  to  find  time 
to  locate  your  nest  and  study  you  this  summer."  You  are 
perfectly  harmless  little  fellows,  and  as  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned you  may  nest  where  you  please.  It  may  be  inter- 
esting to  see  what  you  are  about  from  time  to  time.  There 
are  a  good  many  mice  in  the  field  and  about  the  poultry 
yard,  and  if  you  will  but  decide  to  nest  in  the  deserted 
flicker's  hole  in  the  top  of  the  old  hickory  tree  you  will 

1ST 


138     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

be  given  a  royal  welcome/'  With  this  I  passed  on.  The 
next  time  I  saw  him  was  two  or  three  days  later.  He 
was  sitting  on  the  very  top  of  the  old  hickory  tree  where 
he  could  easily  see  everything  that  moved  for  a  long  dis- 
tance; but  I  had  no  misgivings,  for  I  knew  that  the  spar- 
row hawk  feeds  largely  on  grasshoppers,  beetles,  and  mice. 
It  would  be  a  benefit  to  have  him  rear  a  family  so  near,  for 
he  was  sure  to  catch  most  of  the  mice  that  were  living  on 
the  poultry  feed  and  perhaps  a  few  that  stayed  around  the 
other  buildings.  I  was  sorry,  however,  that  the  nest  was 
so  high  and  so  far  out  on  a  dead  limb  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  climb  to  it  with  safety. 

The  next  time  I  noticed  Fleetwing  I  was  crossing  the 
garden  when  a  song  sparrow  flew  by  as  if  its  very  life 
depended  on  its  speed,  and  truly  it  did,  for  just  behind  was 
Fleetwing.  He  was  flying  perhaps  four  or  five  feet  higher 
than  the  sparrow  and  was  gaining  at  every  foot.  I  had  no 
idea  a  sparrow  could  fly  so  rapidly,  but  in  spite  of  his  best 
efforts  it  looked  as  if  he  was  doomed.  There  was  a  tree  not 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  away  and  suddenly  the  spar- 
row swerved  from  its  course  and  flew  directly  toward  this 
tree.  By  making  this  shift  she  gained  a  few  feet,  but 
quicker  than  I  can  tell  it  he  had  changed  his  direction  also 
and  was  again  in  full  pursuit.  The  hawk  was  no  more  than 
a  rod  behind  the  sparrow  when  it  dashed  into  the  tree  and 
the  disappointed  hawk  swerved  upward  with  a  scream  of 
disappointment  and  flew  back  to  the  top  of  the  hickory 
tree.  Then  it  became  clear  why  Fleetwing  occupied  this 
particular  spot  so  much  of  the  time.  It  was  the  highest 
point  near;  no  bird  could  fly  across  the  pasture  or  garden 
without  being  in  sight,  and  he  counted  on  being  able  to 
catch  it  before  it  got  across. 


FLEETWING  THE  SPARROW  HAWK       139 

I  also  understood  why  the  smaller  birds  keep  near  trees. 
I  had  never  realized  that  hawks  can  not  so  easily  catch  a 
bird  when  it  is  in  a  tree. 

When  the  first  little  chickens  were  hatched  I  placed  two 
hundred  in  a  coop  on  the  grass  not  far  from  Fleetwing's 
nest.  I  felt  safe  in  doing  this  because  a  sparrow  hawk  is 
not  supposed  often  to  feed  on  chickens;  but  within  a  day  or 
two  they  began  to  disappear.  Now  began  a  real  battle  of 
wits.  I  got  a  gun,  a  thing  which  I  had  not  had  in  years,  and 
determined  to  shoot  the  hawks ;  but  they  succeeded  in  out- 
witting me.  They  managed  to  get  three  or  four  little 
chickens  every  day;  and  while  I  might  see  them  catch  a 
chicken,  it  was  always  either  when  I  did  not  have  my  gun 
or  when  I  was  too  far  away  to  shoot.  I  spent  hours  watch- 
ing for  the  hawks,  but  they  never  came  near  until  I  left. 
I  did  succeed,  however,  in  learning  exactly  how  these 
birds  kill  their  prey,  for  I  not  only  saw  them  do  it  at 
close  range,  but  succeeded  in  scaring  them  away  without 
their  having  time  to  carry  the  chick  with  them.  The 
hawk  watches  until  he  feels  sure  of  his  prey,  then  swoops 
downward  straight  as  an  arrow,  strikes  the  bird  in  the 
back  with  his  talons,  and  with  his  powerful  beak  tears  the 
top  of  the  head  off.  The  point  of  the  beak  is  sunk  into  the 
base  of  the  skull,  and  the  skull  is  torn  off  with  a  swift  for- 
ward motion.  I  succeeded  in  getting  a  number  of  chick- 
ens immediately  after  the  hawk  struck  them,  and  every 
one  had  the  whole  upper  part  of  the  skull  torn  off,  the 
brain  exposed,  and  the  medulla  mangled  with  the  point  of 
the  hawk's  beak.  After  having  watched  this  I  felt  much 
less  antipathy  toward  hawks.  True  they  kill  for  food,  but 
they  kill  in  a  merciful  and  painless  way,  their  method 
being  instantaneous  and  almost  painless.  I  have  watched 


140    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH'  STORIES 

the  pigeon  hawk  kill  larger  chickens  and  they  do  it  the 
same  way.  Always  the  top  of  the  head  was  torn  off.  It  seems 
remarkable  that  these  birds  know  that  the  brain  is  a  vital 
spot  and  that  of  all  the  brain  the  medulla  is  the  most  vital. 
Fleetwing  and  his  mate  raised  five  as  sturdy  youngsters  as  a 
sparrow  hawk  could  desire,  and  I  did  not  succeed  in  get- 
ting any  of  them. 

In  spite  of  their  method  of  feeding  sparrow  hawks  are 
wonderful  creatures.  They  alternate  in  sitting,  the  mother 
bird  sitting  perhaps  no  more  than  her  mate.  They  are 
equally  alert  and  apparently  equally  successful  hunters. 
They  show  strong  affection  for  each  other,  and  while  one 
is  sitting  the  other  is  quite  sure  to  bring  food  at  least  once 
every  two  or  three  hours.  I  have  seen  Fleetwing  carry, 
food  to  his  sitting  mate  frequently,  but  no  more  frequently 
than  I  have  seen  her  carry  food  to  him  when  he  was  per- 
forming the  same  duty. 

When  the  youngsters  were  able  to  leave  the  nest  the 
parents  began  systematic  teaching.  The  youngsters  were 
taken  to  the  middle  of  a  large  pasture  where  the  whole 
family  alighted  on  the  ground.  The  first  lesson  consisted 
in  hunting  beetles,  grasshoppers,  and  crickets.  Evidently 
insects  are  considered  an  important  item  of  food  because 
they  are  so  easy  to  catch,  and  the  youngsters  must  learn 
what  to  do  for  a  dinner  in  an  emergency.  A  bird  would 
perch  on  a  tall  weed,  or  skip  from  weed  to  weed  watching 
the  ground  intently.  Every  few  moments  it  would  pounce 
on  a  grasshopper  or  a  butterfly. 

Next  they  were  taught  to  hunt  mice.  Then  father  and 
mother  would  hover  over  the  meadow  and  the  young  birds 
Boon  joined  in  the  game.  A  hawk  would  fly  over  the 
meadow  until  something  attracted  his  attention  below. 


THE  SPARROW  HAWK 


FLEETWING  THE  SPARROW  HAWK       141 

Instantly  he  stopped  and  by  fluttering  his  wings  up  and 
down  would  hang  almost  still,  moving  neither  downward 
nor  upward.  All  the  while  he  was  watching  for  the  least 
movement  on  the  earth  helow.  If  a  mouse  made  the  least 
movement,  quick  as  a  flash  the  wings  were  turned  backward 
and  the  bird  would  fall  like  a  bolt  from  the  clear  sky.  Just 
before  striking  the  ground  the  tail  was  slightly  tilted  and 
the  wings  spread  just  a  little  and  the  bird  would  strike 
the  mouse  and  glide  up  again  without  touching  the  earth. 
This  requires  great  skill.  Sometimes  hawks  fall  from 
great  heights  and  gain  great  momentum,  but  practise  has 
given  them  such  skill  in  judging  distances  that  they  are 
able  so  to  adjust  wings  and  tail  that  they  can  pick  up  an 
animal,  no  matter  how  small,  without  striking  the  earth. 
The  next  spring  Fleetwing  and  his  wife  were  on  hand 
with  the  first  young  chickens.  I  did  not  discover  where  they 
nested  that  summer,  but  they  were  even  more  skilful  in 
catching  little  chicks  than  before.  I  am  sure  that  this 
pair  of  birds  caught  not  less  than  one  hundred  little  chick- 
ens the  second  summer  without  my  being  able  to  prevent 
it.  The  third  summer  they  started  preying  on  my  chickens 
again;  but  they  were  getting  over-confident,  feeling  sure 
they  were  able  to  outwit  me.  One  day  I  hid  behind  the 
chicken  house  when  both  birds  came  for  their  breakfast. 
As  was  customary  they  alighted  on  the  old  hickory  tree  to 
locate  the  particular  chicks  they  desired.  I  shot  the 
mother  bird  before  she  could  get  out  of  range,  but  did 
not  kill  her.  For  two  hours  I  followed  the  two  from 
place  to  place,  never  getting  closer  than  a  long  range 
shot.  Three  times  I  shot  this  bird,  but  Fleetwing  never 
deserted  her.  Wherever  she  went  he  went  also,  always 
keeping  nearest  me  in  a  vain  effort  to  draw  me  after  him. 


14-2  KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH)  STORIES 

Finally  she  alighted  in  the  top  of  a  tall  tree,  too  badly 
hurt  to  fly  again.  A  fourth  shot  brought  her  to  the 
ground.  Did  this  end  my  troubles?  No,  within  three 
weeks  Fleetwing  had  a  new  mate  and  is  still  living  in  the 
yicinity.  He  has,  however,  given  up  chicken  stealing  and 
has  confined  himself  to  English  sparrows  and  other  legiti- 
mate prey.  The  past  season  he  nested  in  the  timbers  of 
our  water  tank.  So  long  as  he  leaves  the  chickens  alone 
be  may  live  there  undisturbed. 

The  sparrow  hawk  is  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  true 
falcons.  We  have  three  families  of  hawks,  but  the  falcons 
have  always  been  most  admired  by  man.  Before  guns 
were  invented,  falcons  were  trained  for  hunting  purposes. 
The  bird  was  carried  to  the  field  with  a  hood  over  his 
head,  and  when  game  was  sighted  the  hood  was  removed 
and  he  was  released.  The  better  trained  falcons  would 
frighten  a  goose,  duck,  or  a  heron,  and  chase  it  until  it 
flew  almost  directly  over  its  master  before  striking  it.  Then 
with  one  lightning  swoop  it  would  strike  its  victim, 
either  breaking  its  neck  or  crushing  its  skull,  and  seem- 
ing to  rejoice  when  it  fell  at  the  master's  feet.  In 
Oriental  countries  some  of  the  falcons  were  used  even  in 
hunting  deer. 

Falcons  are  almost  the  only  hawks  that  catch  poultry 
or  do  any  considerable  damage.  Most  other  hawks  are  not 
active  enough  in  flight  to  catch  many  birds  in  mid-air. 
They  feed  largely  on  rabbits,  mice,  rats,  and  other  small 
animals,  and  are  a  benefit  rather  than  an  injury  to  man. 
Falcons  can  be  recognized  from  the  other  hawks  by  their 
trim,  slender  build,  and  their  longer,  narrower  wings. 
They  do  not  sail  about  so  much  as  do  the  other  hawks, 
but  move  with  a  quick,  nervous  motion.  Many 


FLEETWING  THE  SPARROW  HAWK       143 

of  the  falcons  are  beautifully  colored  and  nearly  all  of 
them  are  more  or  less  spotted  or  streaked,  especially  on 
the  belly  and  breast.  Practically  all  nest  in  the  hollow 
trees  or  on  cliffs  or  in  some  other  inaccessible  place. 


XXII 

SILENT  JVING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL 

IT  was  one  cold  stormy  day  in  February.  All  day  the 
wind  had  howled,  and  spiteful  little  gusts  of  snow  had 
sifted  it  down  over  the  nest  in  the  yawning  hole.  As  the 
twilight  began  to  gather  the  mother  bird  arose  and,  stick- 
ing her  great  horned  head  out  of  the  hole,  glanced  sharply 
about  and  then  settled  down  again  over  five  fuzzy  little 
babies  that  she  had  kept  warm  for  the  last  thiry-six  hours 
without  stirring  from  the  nest.  The  storm  should  have 
spent  its  fury  by  this  time,  but  to  her  consternation  there 
was  no  sign  of  abatement.  The  babies  must  be  fed,  for 
though  most  of  the  wildlings  that  kill  for  food  must  ac- 
custom themselves  to  long  periods  without  dining,  her 
babies  were  too  young  to  fast  for  any  great  length  of  time. 
Two  nights  ago  her  mate  had  brought  them  their  first 
taste  of  flesh  and  departed  in  quest  of  more,  but  now  they 
were  chafing  under  the  long  wait  for  another  feed.  If  only 
the  wind  would  settle  and  the  sky  clear  she  could  go  and 
hunt !  But  these  babies  were  too  young  and  too  hungry  to 
stand  the  chill  of  cold  snow  sifting  in  over  their  backs,  and 
this  was  precisely  what  would  happen  if  she  left  them  now. 
Why  had  not  her  mate  come  long  ago,  bringing  provisions 
for  the  family  ?  She  had  heard  him  sound  the  terror  cry 
several  times  that  night,  and  surely  some  foolish  chicken 

144 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  145 

must  have  lost  its  nerve  enough  to  move  or  cackle  at  the 
sound  of  that  terrifying  cry,  but  he  had  brought  none  home. 
Later  she  had  heard  the  report  of  a  gun,  but  guns  fired  at 
night  seldom  do  harm,  and  surely  so  wise  an  owl  as  her 
husband  had  not  met  disaster  by  this  means.  She  would 
patiently  wait,  for  hunger  was  to  be  preferred  to  cold. 

Moments  passed  into  hours  and  still  she  waited.  Near 
morning  the  wind  sank  to  rest  and  the  moon  shone  forth 
brilliantly.  Hastily  slipping  out  of  the  nest  she  sailed  to 
the  top  of  the  tallest  tree  in  the  neighborhood  and  began 
scanning  the  landscape.  Things  were  not  altogether  to  her 
liking,  for  the  moon  was  full  and  its  light  on  the  new 
fallen  snow  was  blinding,  but  she  must  succeed  in  her  quest 
for  food.  While  she  was  trying  to  decide  which  way  to 
go,  Molly  Cottontail  and  her  foolish  brother  emerged  from 
the  crabapple  thicket  and  started  a  game  of  tag  in  the  open 
field  near  by.  Back  and  forth  they  raced,  rejoicing  in  the 
feel  of  the  soft  snow,  their  minds  wholly  bent  on  the  game. 
This  mighty  hunter  of  the  night  knew  that  even  two  foolish 
rabbits  engaged  in  a  game  of  tag  would  scurry  to  shelter 
should  a  shadow  fall  across  their  path,  so  she  flew  around 
the  field  keeping  behind  the  tree  tops  so  she  could  cross 
the  field  "up  moon,"  so  that  her  shadow  would  fall  behind. 
Swiftly  she  flew,  silent  as  the  shadows  that  flit  across  the 
field.  Molly  ran  down  the  field  and  squatted  behind  a 
little  bush  and  waited  to  startle  her  playmate  when  he 
should  come  dashing  past  in  pursuit,  but  she  waited  in 
vain*  CEhe  silent  wings  swooped  downward  and,  with  a 
scream  Qf  triumph  that  was  meant  to  tell  the  waiting  babies 
that  all  was  well,  the  great  bird  carried  the  warm  limp 
form  to  the  nesthole.  Without  thinking  too  much  about 
the  fate  of  her  husband  and  the  outlook  for  the  future, 


146    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  mother  settled  down  content  with  the  present,  glad 
that  she  had  selected  for  their  home  the  great  hollow 
tree  that  grew  on  the  very  bank  of  the  river  where  she 
could  always  put  its  watery  breadth  between  her  and  her 
enemies  should  danger  appear. 

In  the  meantime  her  husband,  wounded  and  sore,  was 
trying  to  find  a  way  of  escape  from  the  corn  crib  in  a 
neighbor's  barn.  On  the  night  when  he  left  home  he  had 
flown  directly  to  a  barnlot  where  past  experience  taught 
him  that  he  would  find  white  chickens  roosting  in  trees. 
Alighting  in  the  top  of  a  great  elm,  he  looked  about  for 
the  chickens,  but  they  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Knowing 
he  could  not  see  colored  fowls  unless  they  moved,  he  sent 
forth  his  mighty  challenge,  but  nothing  moved  except  a 
mouse  in  the  edge  of  the  straw  sack.  His  wonderfully 
acute  ear  caught  the  sound  and  there  being  no  intimation 
of  larger  game,  he  flew  directly  to  the  spot  and  caught  the 
mouse.  Great  horned  owls  prefer  larger  game  than  mice, 
but  on  a  cold  winter's  night  nothing  that  will  do  to  eat  is  to 
be  despised,  especially  when  there  is  a  hungry  family  at 
home.  Hastily  swallowing  the  mouse,  he  flew  back  to  the 
tree  and  again  gave  his  challenge.  Still  nothing  stirred. 
Seeing  and  hearing  nothing,  he  flew  directly  to  the  top  of 
the  pole  in  the  middle  of  the  haystack,  where  he  felt  that 
he  could  get  a  nearer  view  of  the  house  which  the  man  had 
made  for  his  chickens;  but  as  he  alighted,  he  was  startled 
by  a  snapping  noise  and  something  caught  his  leg  that 
burned  like  fire.  Hastily  taking  flight,  he  was  jerked 
back  by  the  chain  of  a  steel  trap  and  each  time  he  tried  to 
escape  he  succeeded  only  in  hurting  his  leg.  0,  the  agony 
of  the  hours  that  followed !  Over  and  over  he  tugged  and 
strained,  sometimes  flying  this  way,  sometimes  that,  and 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  147 

then,  when  exhausted,  hanging  by  the  chain  with  his  head 
down.  Finally,  at  his  wits'  end,  he  alighted  on  the  top  of 
the  pole  and  was  sitting  there  resting  on  his  uninjured 
foot  when  daylight  came. 

He  did  not  flinch  when  the  man  came  near,  but,  ruffling 
his  feathers  and  snapping  his  bill,  he  was  ready  to  defend 
himself  to  the  last.  But  what  could  he  do?  When  the 
man  came  near  he  attempted  to  use  the  talons  on  the  un- 
injured foot,  but  he  could  not  cling  to  the  pole  with  the 
injured  one  and  so  again  suffered  the  agony  of  hanging 
by,  the  chain.  He  was  taken  from  the  trap  and  put  into 
the  corn  crib,  where  the  boy  saw  him  a  day  or  two  later. 
There  were  plenty  of  mice  in  this  crib  and  he  was  expected 
to  become  a  pet  for  the  privilege  of  being  confined  where 
he  could  catch  the  mice  that  were  playing  havoc  in  the 
corn.  That  was  why  he  brought  no  more  food  to  the 
hungry  family. 

Things  ran  on  as  usual  the  latter  part  of  February  and 
the  first  of  March.  One  day  was  warm  and  the  next 
stormy,  with  flurries  of  snow  interspersed  with  sleet  and 
rain.  The  mother  owl  was  sadly  handicapped  with  five 
baby  mouths  to  feed  and  no  one  to  help;  but  she  never 
whimpered,  and  never  did  it  occur  to  her  that  she  might 
desert  her  family. 

Ringtail  the  coon  lived  hard  by,  and  for  a  week  or  two 
the  poor  mother  never  left  home  without  the  deepest  con- 
cern lest  he,  while  prowling  about  for  his  supper,  should 
happen  to  poke  his  nose  in  the  hollow  tree  and  discover  the 
precious  babies.  Ringtail,  however,  knew  the  terrors  of  a 
great  horned  owl's  talons,  and  somewhere  back  in  his  wise 
little  head  was  stored  the  knowledge  that  if  hunger  pinches 
too  hard  these  mighty  hunters  do  not  hesitate  to  catch  even 


148     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

a  full  grown  coon.  His  sensitive  nose  told  him  that  a 
great  horned  owl  lived  in  this  hollow  tree,  hut  to  him  it 
would  have  been  the  height  of  presumption  to  investigate 
her  home. 

The  hoy  had  a  hahit  of  wandering  up  and  down  the  river 
in  search  of  whatever  story  he  might  discover.  About  a 
week  after  the  catching  of  the  father  owl  he  happened  by 
the  nest.  By  this  time  the  babies  inside  were  growing  rap- 
idly, and  already  the  fluffy  fuzz  was  beginning  to  give 
place  to  pin-feathers.  They  no  longer  needed  careful 
brooding,  and  often  the  mother  elected  to  roost  in  the 
clump  of  swamp  willows  a  hundred  feet  from  the  nest. 
Here  she  felt  more  secure  both  because  she  could  more 
easily  get  away  if  danger  came  and  because  if  she  had  to 
flee  from  these  willows  she  would  not  Betray  the  location 
of  the  precious  nest. 

The  boy  happened  to  stumble  into  this  clump  of  willows. 
The  sun  was  bright  and  its  reflection  from  the  snow 
that  had  fallen  the  night  before  made  such  a  dazzling 
light  that  when  the  owl  awakened  she  merely  straightened 
up,  blinked  her  eyes,  raised  her  horns  to  their  greatest 
height,  and  began  looking  around  to  locate  the  intruder. 

The  boy  knew  that  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  great  horned 
owls  were  believed  to  be  plentiful  because  of  the  large  num- 
bers of  poultry  they  carried  away,  in  all  probability  there 
were  no  more  than  one  pair  in  the  neighborhood.  Looking 
about  for  the  mate  to  this  owl,  his  eye  fell  on  the  hollow 
tree.  At  nesting  time  owls  seldom  sleep  far  from  home, 
and  the  boy  expected  not  only  to  find  another  owl  nearby 
but  hoped  to  locate  the  nest.  Great  horned  owls  usually 
build  a  giant  stick  nest  two  and  a  half  or  three  feet  in 
diameter  on  a  spreading  limb  not  far  from  the  trunk  of 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  149 

some  great  tree.  As  careful  examination  did  not  reveal 
such  a  nest,  the  boy  turned  his  attention  to  the  poor  blinded 
owl  that  sat  blinking  on  the  limb.  Stealthily  he  moved, 
in  the  hope  that  he  might  get  near  enough  to  catch  the 
bird  before  it  saw  him.  Just  as  he  thought  her  within 
his  reach,  she  became  aware  of  his  presence  and  flew 
directly  across  the  river. 

The  boy  was  about  to  move  on  when  it  occurred  to  him 
that  the  other  owl  might  be  roosting  in  this  hollow  tree. 
Placing  a  fallen  limb  against  the  trunk,  he  climbed  up  and 
peeped  in,  and  what  was  his  surprize  to  see  not  one  pair 
of  great  eyes  staring  at  him,  but  five  pairs,  and  hearing  the 
snap  of  not  one  bill  but  of  five.  The  boy  remembered  the 
owl  in  the  neighbor's  corn  crib,  and  it  occurred  to  him 
that  here  was  the  nest  of  that  owl  with  only  the  mother  to 
care  for  the  family. 

The  fright  of  being  aroused  in  the  daytime  over,  these 
young  owls  began  to  make  a  soft,  murmuring  noise  plead- 
ing for  food.  The  boy  always  fed  any  young  birds  that 
he  could  induce  to  eat,  if  it  were  possible.  He  had  a  few 
small  minnows  with  him,  so  cutting  them  in  pieces  with 
his  jack-knife,  he  fed  the  five  hungry  birds.  There  is  no 
food  that  a  great  horned  owl  relishes  so  much  as  fish, 
though  few  ever  learn  to  catch  it  for  themselves.  They  do 
not  usually  feed  on  carcasses,  but  so  fond  are  they  of  fish 
that  when  a  dead  one  is  found  it  is  eagerly  devoured. 
When  he  put  his  hand  in  the  nest  with  the  first  piece  of 
fish  all  but  one  of  the  young  birds  crowded  to  the  furthest 
corner  of  the  hole.  Snapping  his  little  bill,  this  one 
boldly  caught  the  boy's  hand  with  his  baby  talons  and 
started  to  defend  himself.  But  the  smell  of  the  fish  soon 
quieted  his  fear,  and  he  allowed  himself  to  be  fed.  One 


ISO    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

after  another  the  others  overcame  their  fears  and  dined 
for  the  first  time  on  fish.  The  boldness  of  Silent  Wing 
won  the  boy's  heart,  and  he  determined  when  the  proper 
time  came  to  take  him  as  a  pet. 

Ever  afterwards,  when  the  boy  visited  the  nest,  Silent 
Wing  always  showed  greater  boldness  and  was  more 
friendly  than  any  of  the  others.  He  and  the  boy  became 
great  friends,  and  the  boy  learned  to  recognize  him  and  to 
distinguish  him  from  his  fellows. 

After  the  birds  were  fed  they  felt  assured  of  the  good 
intentions  of  their  visitor,  and  permitted  him  to  take  them 
out  of  the  nest  and  set  them  in  a  row  on  the  limb,  tho 
they  protested  against  the  blinding  light  by  snapping 
their  bills  and  blinking  their  great  golden  eyes  in  the  most 
droll  way.  Soon,  one  after  another,  they  began  to  doze 
off,  and  the  boy  put  them  back  into  the  nest  and  went 
his  way  with  the  determination  to  visit  them  as  often  as 
possible;  but  he  kept  to  himself  the  secret  of  their  ex- 
istence. 

The  great  horned  owl  is  one  of  the  largest  American 
owls.  It  has  a  spread  of  wing  of  four  or  five  feet,  and  often 
grows  large  enough  to  kill  a  half  grown  turkey  and  carry 
it  off.  It  lives  largely  on  poultry,  the  larger  wild  birds, 
and  rabbits  or  squirrels,  tho  occasionally  it  catches  even 
opossums  and  woodchucks.  Most  varieties  of  owls  are  bene- 
ficial, living  on  mice,  rats,  and  other  small  rodents  and 
large  insects.  In  the  early  days,  when  these  owls  were 
plentiful  and  poultry  houses  all  but  unknown,  they  earned 
euch  a  reputation  as  chicken  thieves  that  the  whole  owl 
race  has  suffered  at  the  hands  of  man  ever  since.  This 
owl  is  still  occasionally  met  in  practically  every  State  of 
the  union.  It  has  such  an  abundance  of  warm  fluffy 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  151 

feathers  that  it  does  not  mind  the  most  intense  cold  and 
for  this  reason  those  in  the  United  States  do  not  migrate, 
tho  if  food  becomes  scarce  in  one  neighborhood  they  may 
move  to  another. 

A  few  days  before  our  birds  were  ready  to  leave  the  nest 
the  duck  hunter  of  the  neighborhood  happened  by.  This 
man  killed  not  alone  for  the  fun  of  killing  but  for  the  fun 
of  telling  about  it  later.  To  kill  a  great  horned  owl  would 
furnish  something  to  talk  about  in  his  favorite  loafing 
places  for  days  to  come.  Wild  geese  and  ducks  were  com- 
ing in  abundance  and  he  was  now  tramping  up  and  down 
the  river  almost  every  day,  from  long  before  sunrise  till  it 
was  too  dark  to  shoot. 

And  so  he  came  to  the  hollow  nest  tree.  What  is  the 
need  of  telling  more  ?  His  sharp  eye  detected  the  owl  doz- 
ing in  the  willows.  She  heard  him  and  promptly  started 
to  cross  the  river,  but  even  a  river  is  no  protection  against 
ewift-flying  duck  shot.  She  fell  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream,  whether  dead  or  alive  the  hunter  never  knew  or 
cared,  and  was  soon  carried  out  of  sight  by  the  current. 
On  the  way  home  that  evening  he  passed  the  boy's  house 
and  after  showing  his  string  of  ducks  incidentally  men- 
tioned killing  the  owl.  Then  the  boy  knew  it  was  "up  to 
him."  These  birds  must  not  starve.  One  he  might  hope  to 
keep  at  home  as  a  pet  but  never  would  he  be  allowed  five. 

That  night  his  trusty  target  rifle  was  given  a  thorough 
cleaning  and  early  the  next  morning  he  sallied  forth  to  se- 
cure a  supply  of  rabbit  meat  to  feed  his  wards.  Sour  milk 
curd  was  abundant  just  then  and  that  would  make  a  wel- 
come addition  to  the  stock  of  provisions,  and  a  few  days' 
care  was  all  the  fledglings  could  hope  to  receive.  The 
boy's  mother  was  always  a  sympathizer  and  a  confederate 


152    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

under  such  conditions,  and  as  it  was  two  miles  to  the  nest 
the  boy  decided  to  make  a  confident  of  her,  for  otherwise 
it  might  prove  hard  to  get  away  to  feed  his  wards.  She 
consented  to  the  care  of  the  birds  and  suggested  that  he 
move  the  entire  family  to  the  old  hay  barrack,  where  they 
might  be  conveniently  fed,  trusting  that  their  inherent 
shyness  would  lead  them  to  leave  the  place  as  soon  as  they 
were  able  to  fly,  but  this  proved  not  to  be  necessary.  When 
the  boy  went  for  his  wards  he  found  sitting  on  a  limb  near 
the  nest  an  owl  with  one  foot  swollen  and  crooked,  show- 
ing plainly  that  it  had  been  injured  at  no  far  distant 
time ;  and  when  he  looked  in  the  nest  he  found  the  remains 
of  a  Plymouth  rock  chicken  that  the  young  birds  had  not 
been  able  entirely  to  devour.  Discreet  inquiry  revealed  the 
fact  that  the  day  before  the  corn  crib  door  had  been  left 
ajar  for  a  few  moments  and  the  captive  owl  had  escaped. 
Loyal  soul  that  he  was,  he  returned  to  his  family  too  late 
indeed  to  find  his  faithful  mate,  but  in  time  to  save  the 
young  from  starvation.  With  the  boy's  occasional  help  he 
fed  the  family,  the  members  of  which  were  soon  able  to 
care  for  themselves.  For  some  time  after  the  young  birds 
were  able  to  leave  the  nest  they  followed  the  father  at 
night,  not  only  begging  for  food  but  learning  the  ways  of 
the  woods  and  how  to  catch  a  living  for  themselves.  Then 
they  scattered  never  to  come  together  again  as  a  family. 

The  great  horned  owl  is  also  a  solitary  bird.  Even 
where  most  abundant,  seldom  more  than  one  lives  within 
a  radius  of  a  mile  or  more,  except  in  nesting  time.  In- 
stinctively, the  young  scatter  miles  apart  as  soon  as  they 
are  strong  and  wise  enough  to  care  for  themselves. 

Unlike  many  owls,  they  sail  readily  and  gracefully, 
rising,  falling,  and  moving  forward  without  the  necessity 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  153 

of  flapping  a  wing.  They  are  typical  owls,  having  the 
characteristic  short,  stout,  hooked  beak,  the  large  eyes  with 
rosette-like  feather  discs  around  them,  the  short  stout  tail, 
and  the  sharp,  powerful  talons.  Owls  are  usually  easy  to 
identify  by  these  marks,  and  by  the  fact  that  with  one  or 
two  exceptions  our  owls  hunt  by  night  and  sleep  by  day. 

The  great  horned  owl  has  a  variety  of  calls.  Sometimes 
he  utters  a  cry  closely  resembling  the  rapid,  staccato  bark- 
ing of  a  cur  dog.  Again  he  shrieks  much  like  the  cry  of  a 
panther  or  the  scream  of  a  woman  in  distress.  More  often 
he  utters  a  deep  "whoo,  hoo,  hoo."  He  moves  his  beak  and 
even  the  whole  body  in  the  most  grotesque  way  when 
uttering  these  sounds,  snapping  his  bill  loudly  in  the 
intervals. 

Things  ran  along  as  they  do  in  the  busy  life  of  every 
country  boy  until  threshing  time  came.  One  evening  an 
hour  before  sundown,  the  threshing  machine  unexpectedly 
pulled  into  the  yard,  and  his  father,  realizing  that  no  pro- 
vision had  been  made  for  help,  started  out  on  horseback  to 
notify  the  neighbors  with  whom  he  expected  to  exchange 
work  that  the  machine  had  come. 

Stalker's  woods,  a  heavy  body  of  timber  of  some  eighty 
acres  in  extent,  lay  between  the  boy's  home  and  that  of  his 
married  sister,  and  through  these  woods  the  boy  as  mes- 
senger must  pass  to  reach  her  home.  He  was  too  young 
to  notify  the  neighbors  of  the  situation,  but  he  could  walk 
across  the  fields  to  notify  his  married  sister  that  her  help 
was  needed  in  the  kitchen  the  next  day.  Dan  Scott  had  told 
the  boy  so  many  stories  of  witches,  ghosts,  hobgoblins,  etc., 
that  he  was  afraid  to  poke  his  head  out  of  doors  after 
dark.  With  fast  beating  heart  he  set  out  on  his  trip,  hoping 
that  he  might  make  the  return  trip  early  enough  to  get 


154    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

through  this  dreadful  piece  of  woods  before  dark.  But 
hurry  as  he  might,  the  sun  set  before  he  reached  his  des- 
tination. Knowing  he  could  not  stay  over  night  and 
ashamed  to  ask  someone  to  accompany  him  home,  he  de- 
livered his  message  and  started  homeward  as  fast  as  his 
weary  legs  could  carry  him.  When  he  entered  the  woods 
twilight  was  already  falling,  and  before  he  reached  the 
other  side  it  was  dark.  This  was  the  first  time  the  boy  had 
ever  been  out  alone  after  dark,  and  the  fact  that  he  was 
in  the  very  woods  where  a  coyote  had  been  seen  only  three 
days  before,  where  also  wild  cats  were  still  believed  to  live, 
did  not  add  to  his  peace  of  mind.  When  he  was  nearly 
through  the  woods  he  heard  a  "snap,  snap"  in  a  tree  near 
by,  and  then  the  most  unearthly,  blood-curdling  scream 
to  which  he  had  ever  listened.  The  screaming  of  a  woman 
who  is  being  murdered  added  to  the  sobs  and  sighs  of  the 
lost  could  not  be  more  terrible.  The  boy's  hair  rose  up 
straight  on  his  head.  The  cold  sweat  came  out  on  his  brow. 
He  tried  to  run,  but  his  feet  were  rooted  to  the  ground. 
The  agony  of  ages  followed.  A  second  blood-curdling 
scream  came  from  the  tree  just  over  his  head  and  then 
followed  the  softest,  gentlest  "Whoo-hoo-hoo,"  and  a 
great  horned  owl  alighted  almost  by  the  boy's  side.  Re- 
lieved ?  Well,  rather !  He  knew  that  this  owl  was  not  at- 
tacking him,  and  then  he  recalled  his  father's  stories  of 
how  the  scream  of  the  great  horned  owl,  although  heard 
only  at  rare  intervals,  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from 
that  of  the  female  panther.  Undoubtedly  this  was  Silent 
Wing,  who  was  hunting  in  these  woods  and  recognized  the 
boy  as  his  one  time  friend  and  in  the  best  way 
he  knew  was  expressing  his  delight  at  finding  him  again. 
This  bird  would  not  quite  allow  the  boy  to  catch  him, 


SILENT  WING  THE  GREAT  HORNED  OWL  155 

but  when  the  boy  started  on,  he  flew  from  tree  to  tree, 
snapping  his  bill  after  the  manner  of  his  race,  and  when 
the  boy  left  the  woods  and  entered  the  big  road  the  owl 
flew  out  across  the  open  field  in  search  of  his  supper. 

One  evening  during  our  usual  January  thaw  a  female 
owl  flew  to  our  grove,  and  alighted  near  the  grapevine  play- 
house. By  some  accident  (or  was  it  an  accident?)  Silent 
Wing  flew  directly  across  the  fields  from  Stalker's  woods 
and  alighted  in  the  same  tree.  The  call  of  spring  was 
strong  in  his  veins — the  mating  call  of  the  wildlings. 
Silent  Wing  no  sooner  saw  her  ladyship  than  he  knew  he 
wanted  her  and  he  wanted  her  right  now. 

So  he  began  bowing  his  head,  ruffling  his  feathers,  rais- 
ing his  wings  and  spreading  his  wings  in  a  curious  manner, 
making  himself  appear  so  ridiculous  that  the  boy  in  the 
grapevine  swing  would  have  laughed  outright  had  he  not 
been  fearful  they  would  leave.  Aside  from  watching  his 
antics,  she  took  no  notice  of  his  presence.  Growing  more 
earnest,  he  began  hopping  from  branch  to  branch,  continu- 
ing his  maneuvers  and  snapping  his  bill  fiercely  as  if  to 
show  that  even  tho  he  was  not  so  large  as  she,  what  he 
lacked  in  size  he  made  up  in  bravery. 

Finally,  he  attempted  to  approach  and  caress  her  but  she 
ruffled  her  feathers  and  rebuked  him  sharply.  He  took 
flight,  sailing  up  and  down,  around  and  around,  evidently 
doing  all  the  stunts  of  his  race,  now  and  again  punctuat- 
ing his  efforts  by  snapping  his  bill.  After  a  few  moments 
he  alighted  again  and  began  his  bowing  and  dancing  all 
over  again. 

A  rabbit  came  running  down  the  bank  and  its  white 
flag  caught  his  eye.  Rising  in  noiseless  flight,  he  sailed 
downward  without  the  flap  of  a  wing,  caught  his  prey  from 


156     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH'  STORIES 

the  ground,  glided  back  into  the  tree,  and  presented  his 
offering  to  his  lady  love.  Apparently,  she  was  convinced 
of  his  sincerity.  Together  they  devoured  the  rabbit,  and 
when  he  again  began  his  love  dance  she  joined  in  with  as 
much  enthusiasm  as  he.  The  last  the  boy  saw  of  Silent 
Wing  he  and  his  bride  were  flying  across  the  fields  toward 
Skunk  Eiver. 


Key  to  the  Families  of  Raptores 

Birds  with  firm  plumage. 

CATHARTID.S — American  Vultures. 

Large  birds  with  the  head  entirely  tmfeathered,  the  nostrils  longi- 
tudinal, and  the  hind  toe  elevated. 

PANDIONID^E — Ospreys. 

Rather  large  birds  with  sharp,  strong,  curved  claws  all  of  the  same 
length;  head  feathered;  hind  toe  on  the  same  level  as  the  other  toes, 
and  the  outer  toe  reversible. 

FALCONIDJE — Falcons  and  Caracaras. 

Small  or  rather  large  birds  with  characters  similar  to  PANDIONID^E, 
but  with  outer  toe  not  reversible,  and  claws  not  all  of  the  same 
length ;  nostrils  circular  with  a  central  tubercle,  or  narrow  and  set 
obliquely  with  the  lower  end  anterior, 

ACCIPITRID^E — Hawks  and  Eagles. 

Birds  of  small  or  large  size,  similar  in  characters  to  FALCONID^E, 
but  with  nostrils  not  circular  nor  narrow  and  set  obliquely  with  the 
lower  end  anterior. 

Birds  with  rather  soft  plumage. 
BUBONID^ — Horned   Owls. 

With    eyes    directed    forward    and    surrounded    by    disks    of    feathers, 

and  inner  toe  shorter  than  middle  toe. 
TYTONID.E — Barn  Owls. 

With    eyes    directed    forward    and    surrounded   by    disks    of    feathers, 

but  inner  toe  as  long  as  the  middle  toe. 


Foot  of  Typical  HAWK 


XXIII 

LTHE  BELTED  KINGFISHER 

IT  was  my  first  trip  to  the  lakes  and  woods  of  Michigan, 
and  everything  seemed  strange  and  new.  I  was  well 
acquainted  with  the  birds,  plants,  and  fishes  of  our  own 
woods  in  southeastern  Iowa,  but  here  things  were  dif- 
ferent. I  never  before  had  seen  anything  nearer  the  size 
of  a  lake  than  the  ponds  along  Skunk  Eiver,  which  owe 
their  existence  to  the  overflowing  of  the  river  from  time  to 
time.  At  the  first  opportunity  I  wandered  into  the  woods 
by  myself  merely  to  see  what  I  could  find.  I  had  heard 
many  stories  of  the  wild  animals  that  still  roamed  in  these 
woods,  and  had  been  told  that  bears,  wild  cats,  and  Canada 
lynx  were  frequently  caught.  I  had  spent  days  and  weeks  in 
the  woods,  and  knew  that  the  wildlings,  when  not  pressed 
by  extreme  hunger,  are  harmless;  so  it  was  the  farthest 
thing  from  my  thoughts  to  be  afraid,  but  I  was  on  the 
alert  for  new  things.  Even  the  trees  were  different  from 
those  at  home,  not  only  because  they  were  of  different 
kinds,  but  because  of  the  different  soil  and  climate;  even 
the  varieties  with  which  I  had  been  familiar  all  my  life 
looked  different. 

Pushing  through  the  underbrush  in  search  of  a  flower 
I  had  seen  at  a  distance  I  stumbled  unexpectedly  on  a 
beautiful  little  brook,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant  was 

157 


158    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

startled  by  a  rattling  crackle  from  something  near  by.  I 
couldn't  imagine  what  it  could  be.  No  animal  of  which  I 
had  ever  heard  would  give  utterance  to  such  a  sound,  and  I 
was  sure  no  bird  could  have  so  unearthly  and  unmusical 
a  cackle  as  this.  Freezing  in  my  tracks,  I  began  peering 
up  and  down  the  creek  to  see  what  I  had  disturbed,  but 
nothing  was  in  sight.  The  challenge  had  been  so  sudden 
and  unexpected  that  I  was  not  sure  from  what  direction  it 
had  come,  and  as  I  was  unwilling  to  let  anything  so  un- 
usual go  unexplained  and  felt  sure  that  whatever  I  had 
disturbed  would  return,  I  settled  myself  by  the  edge  of 
the  water  to  see  what  would  happen.  When  I  became  con- 
vinced that  the  creature  was  not  in  sight,  I  turned  my  at- 
tention to  other  things.  I  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
brooks  so  clear  that  one  could  see  what  the  fishes  in  them 
were  doing  as  readily  as  one  can  see  those  in  the  globe  on 
the  parlor  table.  But  here  I  could  see  dozens  of  croppies, 
coontailed  bass,  and  sunfish  as  beautifully  colored  as  any 
goldfish  could  be.  Anxious  to  study  these  creatures,  I 
moved  over  on  a  log  that  had  fallen  partly  in  the  water, 
and  began  my  childhood  tactics  of  coaxing  the  fish  to  come 
near  by  throwing  grasshoppers  into  the  water.  At  first, 
all  were  shy,  but  hunger  was  insistent,  and  finally  one  fish 
after  another  got  enough  courage  to  dart  up  and  swallow 
a  grasshopper;  finally  seeing  no  harm  come  of  it,  they 
grew  so  tame  that  they  did  not  hesitate  to  swim  within 
touch  of  my  hand,  and  one  of  the  boldest  even  ventured  to 
take  a  kicking  grasshopper  out  of  my  fingers. 

All  this  doubtless  had  consumed  several  hours,  for  when 
one  becomes  interested  in  the  little  creatures  about  him, 
time  passes  without  notice.  Finally,  I  became  conscious 
that  a  bird  had  alighted  on  the  limb  of  an  old  snag  that 


THE  BELTED  KINGFISHER  159 

was  sticking  out  over  the  water  and  not  twenty  steps 
away,  and  looking  up,  I  was  dumfounded  to  see  a  great 
awkward  bird  that  seemed  all  head  and  bill.  This  bird  was 
wholly  new  to  me,  and  of  course  the  fish  were  forgotten 
in  the  new  interest.  I  had  never  seen  a  picture  or  heard 
anything  that  gave  me  any  clue  to  what  this  bird  was. 
Presently  the  bird  straightened  up,  ruffled  his  topknot, 
and  looked  more  grotesque  than  ever.  Then  he  settled 
down  quietly  to  watch  the  water.  Evidently  he  had  not 
noticed  me,  and  I  sat  immovable — the  only  way  one  can 
become  really  acquainted  with  the  wildlings.  For  perhaps 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  he  sat  perfectly  still,  and  then  with- 
out warning  this  strange  bird  apparently  fell  off  his  perch 
head  first  into  the  water.  He  dropped  straight  and  stiff 
as  an  arrow,  and  it  was  not  until  I  saw  him  rising  out  of 
the  water  with  a  fish  gleaming  in  his  bill  that  I  became 
aware  that  he  had  not  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  but  was 
really  alive  and  that  this  was  his  method  of  earning  a  liv- 
ing. He  lighted  on  the  snag  from  which  he  had  fallen 
and  began  vigorously  hammering  his  prize  on  the  limb. 
When  he  was  convinced  that  the  poor  fish  was  beaten  into 
insensibility  he  flew  up  the  brook  carrying  it  with  him. 

Already  the  sun  was  low  in  the  west,  and  tho  I  was  re- 
luctant to  go  without  learning  more  about  this  interesting 
stranger,  I  turned  homeward.  As  soon  as  I  met  some  one 
who  I  thought  would  take  some  interest  in  the  matter,  I 
told  the  story  of  what  I  had  seen,  and  to  my  surprize 
found  that  I  had  made  no  discovery  at  all,  but  was  merely 
telling  the  story  of  one  of  our  best  known  and  most  widely 
distributed  birds,  the  belted  kingfisher. 

I  have  since  traveled  much  in  almost  every  part  of  these 
United  States,  and  have  found  these  birds  practically 


160    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

everywhere  with  the  exception  of  my  own  home  country, 
the  southeastern  part  of  Iowa.  There  the  water  is  usually 
too  muddy  for  fish  to  he  seen.  There  is  some  variation  in 
the  size  of  this  bird  in  the  different  parts  of  the  country, 
but  the  difference  is  not  great.  Everywhere  this  solitary 
bird  reigns  supreme  as  the  king  of  fishers.  He  never 
has  time  to  play  and  knows  nothing  of  song  save  the  rat- 
tling "Rickety,  crick,  crick,  crick"  which  he  sends  forth 
when  he  sees  an  unwelcome  stranger  in  his  domain,  and 
he  waits  for  this  until  he  is  on  the  wing  and  safe  out  of 
gunshot. 

A  few  years  ago,  on  the  banks  of  White's  Creek,  near 
Nashville,  Tennessee,  I  had  an  opportunity  to  study  the 
kingfisher  at  leisure  and  to  watch  his  home  life.  Unlike 
most  birds,  the  kingfisher  does  not  seem  to  mind  the  cold. 
As  long  as  there  is  open  water  and  good  fishing,  he  does 
not  migrate,  no  matter  what  the  temperature.  I  have  seen 
him  in  Montana  fishing  in  the  mountain  streams  when 
the  thermometer  stood  at  thirty  or  forty  degrees  below 
zero  without  seeming  to  mind  the  cold  in  the  least;  and  he 
was  the  same  busy  silent  fisher  that  I  had  seen  in  the 
middle  of  the  Michigan  summer.  So  in  Tennessee  I  was 
not  surprized  to  find  him  on  the  same  sycamore  limb 
almost  every  day  in  the  year. 

The  kingfisher  is  a  solitary  bird,  and  loves  nothing  so 
well  as  to  be  alone ;  but  after  the  high  water  in  the  spring 
of  1912  two  kingfishers  decided  they  would  forego  the 
privilege  of  being  alone  for  the  privilege  of  raising  a 
family,  and  that  it  was  time  to  get  busy.  After  flying  up 
and  down  the  creek  together,  examining  every  bank  that 
looked  as  tho  it  might  be  above  high  water  mark,  they 
selected  a  spot  about  ten  feet  above  low  water  level,  and 


THE  BELTED  KINGFISHER  161 

started  scooping  out  a  hole  in  the  side  of  a  mud  bank, 
using  their  mighty  bills  as  we  would  a  pick.  A  quantity 
of  earth  was  torn  loose,  and  then  scratched  away  with 
their  claws.  By  persistent  hard  work  they  soon  had  a 
tunnel  in  the  side  of  the  bank  three  or  four  feet  deep  and 
perhaps  three  or  four  inches  in  diameter. 

This  hole  did  not  run  straight,  but  twisted  to  one  side 
about  a  foot  from  the  entrance,  and  then  sloped  up  a  lit- 
tle. I  have  dug  out  very  few  kingfisher's  nests,  but  they 
all  ran  back  five  or  six  feet  into  the  bank,  and  I  have  never 
seen  one  that  went  in  straight,  tho  other  persons  report  that 
they  often  follow  a  straight  course.  At  the  back  end  of  this 
hole  a  little  enlargement  was  made  in  the  earth,  and  a 
few  pieces  of  grass  were  piled  about;  hardly  enough  to  be 
called  a  nest,  just  enough  to  show  that  mother  kingfisher 
felt  it  her  duty  to  do  something.  I  did  not  see  the  eggS 
and  do  not  know  whether  one  was  laid  every  day  or  not. 
The  fact  is,  I  did  not  care  to  disturb  the  nest  because 
I  wished  to  watch  the  development  of  the  family. 

In  May  the  mother  must  have  begun  sitting,  for  then  I 
seldom  saw  more  than  one  bird  at  a  time.  But  about  the 
last  of  June  both  the  birds  were  to  be  seen  again,  actively 
fishing  most  of  the  time,  so  I  took  it  for  granted  that  the 
young  were  hatched,  and  were  old  enough  not  to  require 
much  brooding.  The  mother  bird,  however,  did  her  fishing 
nearer  the  precious  hole  than  did  the  male,  tho  I  do  not 
know  that  she  would  have  done  anything  if  an  animal  had 
bothered  the  nest.  Certain  it  is  that  when  I  would  go  to 
the  mouth  of  the  nest  hole,  she  would  fly  away  with  the 
same  rasping,  rattling  cackle  she  would  have  used  if  there 
had  been  no  nest  in  the  vicinity,  and  would  not  return 
until  I  had  left  the  place.  Probably  she  felt  that  her  deep 


162     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

excavation  in  the  bank  was  all  the  protection  her  babies 
required.  But  with  the  large  number  of  snakes  that  lived 
along  that  creek,  every  one  of  which  had  the  habit  of 
crawling  into  holes,  it  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me 
that  none  of  them  bothered  the  young  kingfishers.  More 
than  that,  Bobby  Mink  traveled  up  and  down  the  creek 
every  night  catching  crawfish,  minnows,  and  anything 
else  that  came  in  his  way.  Knowing  that  the  mink  has  a 
habit  of  poking  his  nose  into  every  hole  he  passes  and  is 
never  content  to  stop  until  he  has  explored  it  to  the  end, 
I  have  wondered  that  he  did  not  dine  here,  but  doubtless 
the  mother  bird  was  in  the  hole  at  night  and  her  powerful, 
sharp  beak  ought  to  be  sufficient  weapon  to  drive  away 
even  a  hungry  mink. 

Then  both  birds  were  even  more  absorbed  in  fishing 
than  usual,  but  as  at  that  time  there  were  schools  of  min- 
nows everywhere,  it  was  not  difficult  to  catch  plenty  even 
for  a  family  of  five  babies. 

I  had  supposed  that  a  kingfisher  was  very  sure  to  make 
a  catch  when  he  dove  for  a  fish,  but,  whether  or  not  neces- 
sity led  them  to  take  greater  chances  than  ordinarily,  these 
birds  missed  fully  twice  as  often  as  they  succeeded  in 
catching  the  fish  after  which  they  dove.  I  often  watched 
one  of  these  birds  sitting  on  a  sycamore  limb  over  a  favor- 
ite pool.  A  white  gleam  would  flash  from  the  water,  show- 
ing that  a  minnow  was  playing  beneath,  when  there  would 
immediately  be  a  splash  in  the  water.  If  the  bird  failed  to 
make  a  catch,  she  usually  promptly  returned  to  the  same 
limb  and  waited  patiently  for  an  opportunity  to  try  again. 
If  she  caught  her  minnow,  she  usually  flew  directly  to  the 
nest  without  stopping  to  kill  it.  She  alighted  on  a  stone 
near  the  entrance,  however,  and  beat  the  fish  over  the  stone 


THE  BELTED  KINGFISHER  163 

a  number  of  times  before  entering  the  hole,  tho  I  do  not 
think  she  ate  it. 

When  the  young  were  half  grown,  they  usually  met  their 
mother  at  the  entrance  of  the  hole.  This  never  seemed 
to  please  her  very  well,  for  she  steadily  refused  to  feed 
them  until  they  were  well  back  under  the  ground.  Of 
course  this  meant  that  I  could  not  see  her  feed  them  at 
all.  A  young  kingfisher  is  the  most  awkward,  ungainly, 
ugly  looking  bird  I  have  ever  seen.  Every  feature  of  the 
old  bird  is  exaggerated  in  the  babies.  They  have  such 
disportionately  small  feet  and  legs,  and  such  ridiculously 
small  naked  bodies,  crowned  with  such  a  large  ugly  head, 
that  it  is  hard  to  see  any  beauty  in  them. 

When  the  young  birds  were  able  to  fly,  which  was  about 
the  middle  of  July,  I  dug  out  the  nest,  and  it  was  a 
filthy  sight.  Most  birds  are  cleanly  in  their  habits,  and 
are  especially  particular  about  their  housekeeping,  but 
not  so  with  the  kingfisher.  The  nest  hole  was  a  reeking 
mass  of  putrified  fish,  feces,  bones,  etc.  The  kingfisher 
must  have  a  great  deal  of  resistance  to  disease  in  order 
to  be  able  to  live  and  thrive  under  such  filthy  conditions. 

The  young  birds  did  not  remain  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  nest  more  than  a  few  days,  but  those  few  days  were 
busy  ones,  for  in  that  brief  time  the  mother  was  teaching 
her  children  how  to  earn  a  living.  She  would  perch  by 
their  side  on  an  overhanging  limb  and  patiently  wait  for 
the  glimmer  of  a  fish  below.  The  first  day  or  two  she 
usually  caught  the  fish,  beat  it  into  partial  insensibility  and 
then  dropped  it  again  into  the  water.  The  young  were 
persistent  in  their  plea  for  food,  but  the  mother  was  as 
insistent  that  they  catch  their  living  if  they  got  any.  There 
was  very  little  current  where  they  hunted,  and  a  fish  did 


164     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGHi  STORIES 

not  float  out  of  sight  quickly.  The  young  birds  would 
crane  their  necks  and  look  hungrily  at  the  fish  below  until 
finally  one  more  hungry  or  more  bold  than  the  rest  would 
make  a  dive  for  it.  At  first  the  aim  was  not  good,  and  the 
bird  would  miss  even  a  dead  fish  more  often  than  he  suc- 
ceeded in  catching  it.  Usually,  however,  he  fluttered  about 
the  surface  of  the  water  until  he  got  his  fish,  even  tho  he 
had  missed  it  when  he  made  his  plunge.  Old  birds  never 
hover  about  the  water  if  they  have  missed  their  aim,  for 
they  have  learned  that  there  is  a  vast  difference  between 
a  live  active  fish  and  one  that  is  stunned  and  half  dead. 
During  the  first  few  days  when  the  young  birds  became 
too  hungry,  the  mother  would  occasionally  relent  and  feed 
them,  but  before  the  week  was  over,  no  matter  how  hungry 
they  became,  no  food  was  coming  until  they  caught  it. 
Within  ten  days  the  young  birds  were  catching  live  fish 
instead  of  half  dead  ones. 

Then  a  young  bird  would  catch  his  fish,  carry  it  to  his 
perch,  whack  it  over  the  limb  a  few  times,  toss  it  in  the 
air,  catch  it  by  the  head  as  it  came  down  and  swallow 
it  with  as  much  skill  as  his  mother.  As  soon  as  she  was 
convinced  of  the  skill  of  each  of  her  brood,  she  forsook 
them  entirely.  I  do  not  know  whether  she  ultimately 
drove  them  from  the  neighborhood  or  whether  they  left 
voluntarily,  but  when  July  was  past  only  the  old  birds 
were  to  be  seen  in  the  neighborhood.  I  became  too  busy 
to  watch  them  longer,  so  never  knew  whether  they  reared 
more  than  one  brood  that  summer  or  not.  I  do  know  that 
long  before  frost  the  pair  had  parted,  her  ladyship  keeping 
the  good  fishing  ground  in  the  vicinity  of  the  nest,  while 
her  spouse  fished  alone  a  half  mile  up  the  creek. 

The  kingfisher  is   an   exception   to   the  general  rule 


THE  BELTED  KINGFISHER  165 

among  birds  and  animals.  The  female  is  more  bril- 
liantly colored  than  her  spouse.  She  is  easily  recognized 
from  the  fact  that  she  alone  has  the  rufous  belt  across  her 
abdomen.  She  is  easily  the  head  of  her  household,  and 
usually  has  the  best  of  everything. 

Kingfishers  are  common  in  other  countries,  and  there 
are  a  great  many  kinds  varying  in  size  from  no  larger 
than  a  sparrow  to  birds  larger  than  a  small  crow.  They 
belong  to  the  family  Alcedinidcs,  and  can  always  be  rec- 
ognized by  the  large  head  often  with  the  feathers  sticking 
straight  up,  the  long  sharp  beak,  the  powerful  wings, 
and  the  short  stubby  tail.  No  other  bird  looks  much  like 
them.  Our  own  kingfisher  is  about  thirteen  inches  long 
from  the  end  of  his  beak  to  the  end  of  his  tail.  His  back 
and  upper  parts  are  a  blue  gray,  with  light  and  dark 
spots  on  his  wings  and  tail.  His  throat  and  upper  breast, 
as  well  as  his  belly,  are  snow  white.  The  white  on  his 
throat  extends  completely  around  his  neck,  which  makes 
one  think  he  is  wearing  a  high,  stiff  collar.  There  is  a 
broad  belt  of  blue  gray  which  extends  completely  across 
the  breast  from  the  butt  of  the  wings  downward  about  two 
inches,  which  at  a  distance  gives  the  appearance  of  a 
black  hand.  The  feathers  on  the  head  stick  up  like  the 
hair  on  the  head  of  a  ten-year-old  boy.  His  feet  are  very 
small,  not  much  larger  than  those  of  a  sparrow,  yet  they 
are  large  enough  for  him  to  use  in  scratching  away  the 
dirt  when  making  a  nest  hole  and  to  enable  him  to  sit  on  a 
limb.  As  he  never  tries  to  walk  or  hop,  he  has  no  use 
for  better  feet  and  legs.  Some  of  the  foreign  kingfishers 
are  brilliant  in  color,  some  even  being  a  bright  green,  but 
their  habits  are  much  the  same.  They  love  nothing  so 
much  as  solitude  and  a  good  clear  stream  of  water  in 


166     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

which  is  an  abundance  of  minnows,  tho  a  few  varieties  live 
in  the  forest  far  from  water  and  eat  insects.  .Even  there 
they  are  contented  to  be  wholly  alone.  They  live  in  pairs 
only  during  the  nesting  season. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Coccyges 

ALCEDINID.S — Kingfishers. 

With  3  toes  in  front  and  1  behiud, 
CUCULID.S — Cuckoos. 

With  2  toes  in  front  and  2  behind,  but  with  the  anterior  toes  separated 

to  their  bases. 
TROGONIDJE — Trogons. 

With  2  toes  in  front  and  2  behind,  but  with  the  anterior   toes  united 

for  their  basal  half. 


xxiv; 

PICUS  THE  FLICKER 

WHEN  I  built  my  house  in  the  vicinity  of  Nashville, 
Tennessee,  I  selected  a  site  at  the  foot  of  a  hill  in  a 
beautiful  grove  at  some  distance  from  the  pike,  where  the 
birds  could  live  their  natural  lives  undisturbed  by  pass- 
ing vehicles.  The  family  moved  into  the  house  in  the  fall. 
One  morning  the  next  February  we  were  wakened  by  a 
tremendous  drumming  on  an  old  tin  can.  My  good  wife 
aroused  at  once  and  asked  what  was  making  all  that  racket. 
We  listened  a  few  moments  and  it  came  again,  a  perfect 
tattoo  of  drumming.  My  reply  was  that  spring  was  open- 
ing and  evidently  some  woodpecker  was  out  hunting  for  a 
wife.  We  peeked  out  of  the  window  and  sure  enough  a 
gallant  young  nicker  sat  on  an  old  five  gallon  tin  can  some 
one  had  dropped  about  two  or  three  hundred  feet  away  on 
the  side  of  the  hill. 

The  nicker  is  one  of  the  most  widely  distributed  and 
best  known  of  woodpeckers.  It  is  about  the  size  of  a 
meadow  lark  or  a  robin,  and  the  Eastern  forms  are  easily 
recognized  from  most  other  woodpeckers  by  the  fact  that 
their  wing  and  tail  feathers  have  yellow  shafts  and  are 
shaded  yellowish,  which  gives  them  more  or  less  of  a  gold- 
en appearance  when  they  fly ;  and  from  the  fact  that  they 
are  spotted  and  speckled  with  black  while  the  general  color 

167 


168    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

of  the  upper  parts  of  the  body  is  a  golden  brown  with  a 
white  rump.  There  is  a  red  streak  on  the  back  of  the  head, 
and  the  belly  is  whitish,  spotted,  and  marked  with  black. 

They  are  jolly,  saucy  fellows,  flitting  about,  chasing  each 
other  from  tree  to  tree,  and  giving  utterance  to  a  "whick- 
ety,  whickety,  whickety,  whick."  Then  one  will  call 
"Keeler"  once  or  twice,  and  away  he  goes  to  another  tree. 
You  can  recognize  a  woodpecker  from  any  other  bird  from 
the  fact  that  he  perches  on  the  side  of  trees  and  large  limbs, 
uses  his  tail  for  a  prop,  and  every  little  while  pecks  the 
wood.  The  bill  is  strong  and  sharp  so  that  it  cuts  the  wood 
easily.  The  head  is  rather  large  and  the  neck  strong, 
which  gives  great  power  for  pecking.  The  tongue  is  sharp, 
pointed,  and  barbed  so  that  it  can  easily  be  stuck  into  a 
hole  and  made  to  pierce  a  grub  and  draw  it  out.  They 
peck  wood  largely  in  order  to  get  the  grubs  which  are  liv- 
ing in  it.  These  grubs  are  much  liked  by  these  birds,  are 
a  welcome  addition  to  their  food  in  winter,  and  together 
with  ants  and  bugs  are  the  principal  food  in  summer.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  decide  just  how  a  woodpecker 
knows  where  a  grub  is  located,  but  I  do  know  that  they 
do  not  peck  wood  just  anywhere  but  in  some  way  locate  a 
grub  before  they  begin  pecking.  On  the  other  hand  they 
tap  here  an'd  there,  possibly  listening  for  a  hollow  sound 
before  making  a  hole.  Some  of  the  small  woodpeckers, 
however,  make  a  great  many  holes  in  trees,  pecking  just 
deeply  enough  to  draw  the  sap.  We  are  told  that  they 
drink  the  sap  as  it  oozes  out,  but  this  is  not  their  only 
reason  for  wishing  the  sap  to  run.  They  learned  long  ago 
how  to  sugar  for  insects. 

When  I  am  collecting  moths,  butterflies,  and  other  in- 
sects I  sometimes  mix  a  preparation  of  sugar  sirup  and 


PICUS    THE    FLICKER  169 

fruit  juice  and  put  it  on  the  bark  of  a  tree  here  and  there. 
After  a  few  hours  I  go  back  to  the  trees  to  see  what  is 
feeding  it.  When  the  insects  have  had  time  to  find  it,  I 
am  quite  sure  to  discover  many  insects  every  time  I  make 
my  rounds.  Of  course  most  of  them  are  just  ordinary 
varieties  that  I  do  not  care  for,  but  sooner  or  later  I  find 
something  worth  while. 

Now  Mr.  Sapsucker's  feet  and  legs  are  not  formed  so 
as  to  permit  him  to  go  into  the  meadow  and  catch  insects 
like  a  mocking  bird  or  a  robin,  and  yet  he  must  live. 
Therefore  he  pecks  holes  in  limbs  and  then  comes  back 
from  time  to  time  and  feeds  on  the  insects  the  sap  has 
attracted.  He  knows  full  well  when  the  sap  will  flow  in 
the  various  trees  and  does  very  little  drilling  when  the 
sap  is  not  running.  However,  I  must  not  spend  too  much 
time  on  woodpeckers  in  general  but  must  get  back  to  Picus. 

Picus  continued  his  drumming  on  the  old  tin  can  at 
intervals  during  the  day,  and  early  the  second  morning 
we  were  again  wakened  by  his  tattoo.  Evidently  there  was 
a  flicker  maiden  somewhere  in  the  woods  who  heard  and 
came  to  see  what  sort  of  gentleman  it  was  that  could  drum 
so  much  louder  and  make  so  much  more  wonderful  music 
than  any  of  the  young  gentlemen  of  her  acquaintance. 
Surely  a  bird  which  could  peck  like  that  ought  to  be  able 
to  provide  grubs  in  abundance  for  a  family.  At  any  rate 
when  I  peeped  out  the  second  morning  to  see  Picus  drum, 
I  saw  this  maiden  alight  on  a  limb  just  above  his  drum. 
Here  she  danced  about  in  the  characteristic  flicker  man- 
ner and  attracted  the  attention  of  Picus,  busily  engaged 
as  he  was  in  beating  his  drum.  Clearly  it  was  a  case  of 
love  at  first  sight  on  his  part  for  he  immediately  left  the 
'  can  and  alighted  on  the  limb  not  six  inches  from  her 


170    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

side.  Then  began  a  series  of  acting  that  was  so  human 
as  to  be  amusing.  The  young  lady  looked  up  as  if  per- 
fectly surprized,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Where  did  you 
come  from  ?  I  did  not  suppose  there  was  a  young  gentle- 
man in  all  the  woods."  He  bowed  and  whicked,  "How 
do  you  do?"  She  promptly  flew  away  to  the  next  tree, 
wishing  to  have  it  distinctly  understood  that  she  did  not 
talk  to  strange  young  gentlemen. 

Picus  sat  still  for  a  few  minutes,  craning  his  neck  to  see 
where  she  went,  and  then  flew  to  the  limb  just  above  her, 
precisely  as  she  hoped  and  expected  he  would  do.  He 
did  not  make  his  advances  so  boldly  this  time,  but  danced 
about  the  limb,  examining  it  on  all  sides  very  carefully  for 
a  worm,  while  she  sat  demurely  on  her  branch  totally  ob- 
livious of  his  presence.  When  he  became  satisfied  he  was 
getting  nowhere  by  dancing  about  on  his  limb  he  hopped 
down  beside  his  lady  love  and  began  to  whick,  "Fine  day 
this  morning."  More  insulted  than  ever,  away  she  flew; 
but  while  the^e  were  a  thousand  acres  of  trees  to  which 
she  might  have  gone  she  flew  only  fifty  or  sixty  feet. 

This  went  on  for  perhaps  an  hour,  when  another  gentle- 
man flicker  appeared  on  the  scene  and  began  to  press  his 
suit.  To  an  outside  observer  it  was  evident  from  the  first 
that  this  young  lady  had  her  heart  set  on  Picus,  but  it 
was  far  from  her  to  let  him  discover  this  as  yet.  Accord- 
ingly she  received  the  attentions  of  the  new  arrival  with 
apparent  favor  and  allowed  him  to  alight  on  the  limb 
beside  her  and  together  they  danced  round  and  round  the 
limb,  whickety,  whickety,  whicketying  as  friendly  as  could 
be.  Poor  Picus  did  not  seem  to  feel  that  matters  had 
gone  far  enough  for  him  to  have  any  particular  rights 
in  the  matter  so  away  he  went  back  to  his  can  and  began 


PICUS    THE    FLICKER  171 

to  drum  lustily.  And  would  you  believe  it,  as  soon  as  he 
Lad  left  the  red  oak  tree  this  flicker  maiden  pounced  on 
his  rival  and  drove  him  away  and  then  deliberately  flew 
back  to  her  perch  above  Picus  and  his  drum!  Of  course 
she  wasn't  interested  in  Picus,  but  there  might  happen  to 
be  a  fat  grub  in  this  tree ! 

In  due  time  Picus  saw  her  and  the  performance  started 
over  again.  By  noon  the  third  day  things  were  beginning 
to  be  interesting.  When  the  courtship  was  at  its  height  I 
saw  at  one  time  six  flickers — Picus,  his  lady  love,  and  four 
other  suitors — on  a  large  dead  limb  in  the  top  of  a  giant 
oak  tree.  If  you  had  been  there  and  watched  their  actions 
without  having  followed  the  romance  for  the  past  two  days 
I  am  sure  you  never  would  have  been  able  to  tell  which 
of  the  suitors  she  favored. 

I  was  not  present  when  the  matter  was  finally  settled, 
but  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day  when  Picus  played 
his  morning  tune  on  the  tin  drum,  the  young  lady  alighted 
on  a  tree  near  by,  but  she  did  not  fly  away  when  he 
alighted  by  her  and  began  love  making.  Instead  they 
nodded  and  chatted  as  friendly  as  could  be,  and  then  flew 
together  to  the  dead  limb  in  the  top  of  the  great  red  oak 
tree  and  began  looking  it  over  very  carefully — for  what 
purpose  I  was  not  quite  sure.  This  time  when  some  of 
her  less  fortunate  suitors  appeared,  Picus  did  not  hesitate 
to  let  them  know  how  matters  stood,  and  his  lady  love, 
with  all  her  love  for  flirting,  soon  made  it  evident  that 
their  presence  was  no  longer  welcome.  When  I  came  home 
to  dinner  that  day  a  new  hole  had  been  pecked  more  than 
an  inch  deep  in  the  side  of  a  limb  in  the  great  oak. 

For  nearly  two  weeks  these  woodpeckers  played,  hunted, 
made  love,  and  worked  at  their  nest  by  turns.  Judging 


172     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH*  STORIES          ; 

•,  VN 

from  the  pieces  of  wood  they  threw  out,  they  must  have 
made  their  nest  hole  at  least  twelve  or  fourteen  inches 
deep.  It  was  too  high  and  too  dangerous  for  me  to  attempt 
to  climb  to  it,  but  judging  from  many  similar  nicker  nests 
I  have  seen,  it  went  into  the  side  of  the  limb  an  inch  or 
so  and  then  turned  and  ran  downward.  The  hole  in  the 
side  of  the  limb  was  just  large  enough  to  admit  a  bird 
nicely  but  was  much  larger  inside,  roomy  enough,  in  fact, 
to  house  both  birds  nicely,  or  even  to  hold  a  half  dozen 
full  grown  birds  without  overcrowding.  The  bottom  was 
rounded  out  a  bit  and  a  few  feathers  may  have  been  car- 
ried in,  or  they  may  have  neglected  this  unnecessary  work. 
Before  the  middle  of  March  the  eggs  were  laid;  perfectly 
round  eggs  as  white  as  alabaster  and  so  transparent  that 
if  you  held  one  up  to  the  light  you  could  see  the  yolk 
plainly  through  the  shell. 

While  the  nest  building  was  going  on  Picus  never  failed 
to  beat  his  drum  every  morning,  and  his  good  wife  never 
failed  to  show  her  pride  in  the  fact  that  he  was  the  most 
powerful  musician  in  all  the  woods.  Evidently  the  great- 
est feat  a  woodpecker  can  perform  is  to  beat  a  long,  loud, 
rolling  tattoo  on  his  drum.  Every  male  flicker,  and  every 
male  red-headed  woodpecker  for  that  matter,  selects  a 
drumming  place  early  in  the  spring  and  there  he  drums 
every  day  through  the  breeding  season.  He  will  search  for 
hours  and  even  days  to  find  a  place  that  is  resonant;  if 
at  any  time  during  the  summer  he  chances  to  find  a  place 
where  he  can  make  more  noise,  he  promptly  forsakes  the 
first  for  it. 

As  the  boards  on  the  comb  of  a  house  or  barn  are  apt 
to  be  the  best  sounding  boards  in  the  neighborhood  wood- 
peckers often  choose  these  places  for  their  morning  song. 


PICUS    THE    FLICKER  173 

I  remember  very  well  on  the  old  farm  it  was  always  a 
race  between  the  chimney  swift  and  the  woodpecker  on 
the  comb  of  the  house  to  see  who  would  have  the  honor  of 
wakening  the  family.  I  have  known  a  woodpecker  to  find 
a  weather  board  that  was  loose  enough  to  rattle  well  and 
peck  on  it  until  he  had  pecked  a  hole  through  the  side  of 
the  house.  At  one  time  the  tin  that  fitted  around  our 
chimney  became  loose  on  one  side.  A  red-headed  wood- 
pecker discovered  this  and  for  several  days  he  was  in  the 
greatest  glee.  Father  put  a  ladder  against  the  side  of  the 
house,  gave  me  a  hammer  and  some  nails,  and  sent  me  to 
the  roof  to  nail  this  tin  down  tightly.  The  next  morning 
Mr.  Eedhead  was  much  chagrined  when  he  brought  his 
wife  to  listen  to  his  wonderful  musical  powers,  only  to  dis- 
cover that  his  drum  would  not  work.  He  tried  it  a  few 
times  and  then  flew  away  in  disgust  and  thereafter  did 
his  drumming  on  the  barn. 

As  a  boy  it  was  always  a  mystery  to  me  how  such  birds  as 
nickers  managed  to  get  their  young  out  of  their  hole. 
The  hole  where  Picus  lived  faced  directly  toward  our 
front  porch,  and  my  field  glasses  made  it  appear  only  a  few 
feet  away.  When  the  young  birds  were  nearly  grown  they 
began  to  get  restless  and  made  a  good  deal  of  noise  when- 
ever the  parents  came  to  the  nest  hole.  Soon  I  began  to 
notice  an  occasional  head  peeping  out  of  the  hole,  looking 
at  the  great  world  outside.  In  a  day  or  two  the  young 
birds  did  not  hesitate  to  sit  in  the  hole,  and  finally  to  creep 
outside  clinging  to  the  limb  with  their  claws  and  bracing 
themselves  with  their  tails.  Evidently  the  young  begin 
using  their  claws  to  crawl  about  in  the  nest  hole  and  so 
soon  as  the  tail  feathers  are  well  grown  are  able  to  crawl 
about  on  the  outside.  If  you  will  notice  a  woodpecker 


174     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

when  he  is  creeping  about  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  you  will 
see  that  he  uses  his  tail  as  a  prop.  It  is  doubtful  if  he 
could  climb  about  a  tree  as  he  does  if  his  tail  were  pulled 
out.  When  you  get  a  chance,  examine  a  tail  feather  from 
a  woodpecker  and  I  am  sure  you  will  be  surprized  at  its 
stiffness.  It  was  two  or  three  days  after  the  first  young 
bird  was  out  of  the  nest  before  I  saw  any  of  them  fly. 
For  weeks  they  were  most  often  seen  feeding  on  the 
ground.  Woodpeckers  and  especially  flickers  live  largely 
on  ants  and  beetles,  and  these  are  easiest  to  find  on  the 
ground. 

Picus'  young  flickers  left  the  nest  hole  soon  after  they 
were  able  to  fly  and,  as  the  summer  was  dry  and  food  scarce, 
soon  found  their  way  to  the  barn  and  cornfield.  They  eat 
corn  and  other  grain  when  short  of  food,  and  are  espe- 
cially fond  of  roasting  ears,  pecking  the  end  of  the  ear 
and  tearing  the  husks  to  shreds  to  get  at  the  grain.  At 
husking  time  farmers  often  find  ears  of  corn  the  tips  of 
which  have  been  eaten  by  flickers. 

Picus  and  his  wife  reared  two  broods  of  young  in  their 
nest  hole  and  then  were  forcibly  driven  out  by  an  old  gray 
squirrel.  There  is  no  creature  more  light-hearted  or  good- 
natured  than  the  flicker.  Picus  never  missed  his  drum- 
ming a  single  morning  because  he  had  lost  his  home, 
neither  did  he  quarrel  or  fight  with  the  squirrel.  He 
merely  moved  with  his  wife  to  the  barn,  and  went  on  with 
his  normal  life.  Practically  every  day  they  visited  the  old 
home  tree  and  early  the  next  spring  made  a  new  hole  on 
the  other  side  of  the  tree.  There  they  were  keeping  house 
contentedly  when  I  moved  away  and  there  they  may  still 
be  living  for  all  I  know. 


XXV 

K  STRANGE  NEST 

ONE  day  Orvil  Greeson  and  I  started  to  the  river  to  go 
fishing.  Boylike  we  cut  across  fields  and  soon  found 
ourselves  in  a  large  cornfield.  Then  Orvil  said  to  me,  "Let 
us  go  over  to  the  bird's  nest  I  found  yesterday  while  plow- 
ing." No  one  ever  saw  a  boy  who  wasn't  interested  in  a 
bird's  nest,  especially  if  it  be  in  such  an  unusual  place  as 
a  cornfield,  and  ,so  of  course  we  went  over.  Near  the  middle 
of  the  field  in  a  small  clump  of  bushes  he  pointed  to  two 
whitish  eggs  lying  on  the  ground  without  any  indications  of 
a  nest.  Now  mother  had  taught  me  that  we  ought  not  to 
rob  birds'  nests,  so  the  first  thing  I  said  was,  "Why  did 
you  rob  the  nest?"  His  answer  was,  "I  did  not."  "But," 
I  said,  "there's  no  nest  there.  Where  did  these  eggs  come 
from  ?"  "The  old  bird  laid  them  right  there,"  he  said,  and 
we  had  quite  a  discussion  as  to  what  sort  of  bird  it  was. 
Orvil  said  that  when  he  was  plowing  corn  the  day  before 
a  queer  looking  gray  bird  flew  up  in  front  of  his  team 
and  fluttered  about  so  much  that  he  stopped  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  Of  course  the  bird  got  away,  but  Orvil 
saw  the  eggs.  He  was  not  well  enough  acquainted  with  the 
bird  to  know  it,  so  when  I  went  home  I  asked  mother 
what  it  was.  She  said  it  was  a  whippoorwill,  but  that 
their  eggs  are  usually  slightly  speckled.  We  did  not  have 

175 


176     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

many  whippoorwills  in  our  neighborhood  and  it  was  only 
when  we  went  over  to  the  river  that  we  heard  them 
whistle. 

Of  course  I  was  interested  and  would  have  liked  to  watch 
till  the  eggs  hatched  and  the  birds  grew  up.  But  as  it 
was  two  or  three  miles  from  home  and  the  garden  needed 
hoeing,  and  when  there  was  time  to  play  there  were  so 
many  things  worth  investigating  near  by,  I  did  not  get 
back  to  the  nest.  Orvil  and  I  did  not  go  to  the  same 
school  so  I  never  asked  him  whether  he  watched  the  young 
birds  hatch  and  grow  up  or  not;  but  I  have  always  been 
glad  I  saw  this  whippoorwill's  nest,  for  I  have  never 
found  another  in  just  that  kind  of  place. 

When  the  birds  were  learning  to  build  their  nests,  evi- 
dently the  whippoorwill  had  a  lazy  fit,  for  she  does  not 
build.  She  simply  selects  a  spot  on  the  ground,  in  the 
brush  or  woods  or  in  some  similar  out-of-the-way  place, 
and  lays  her  eggs  without  even  the  trouble  of  wallowing  a 
hole  in  the  ground.  They  are  sometimes  laid  even  on  top 
of  a  dead  leaf  or  on  the  grass.  I  presume  the  reason  why 
she  lays  her  eggs  on  the  ground  is  that  the  ground  is  so 
nearly  her  own  color  that  there  she  can  feel  safe  from  be- 
ing caught  while  brooding.  A  whippoorwill  does  not 
fly  in  the  broad  daylight.  I  do  not  know  whether  she 
sees  well  in  the  daytime  or  not,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think 
the  light  dazzles  her  eyes  much  as  it  dazzles  the  eyes 
of  an  owl.  She  depends  almost  entirely  on  her  color  for 
protection. 

When  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  two  or  three  of  us 
started  up  to  the  head  of  Wymore's  Branch  to  gather  dog's- 
tooth  violets  and  Dutchman's  breeches.  After  we  had 
all  become  tired,  we  clambered  on  the  top  of  a  rail  fence 


A   STRANGE    NEST  177 

to  rest.  We  had  been  sitting  there  talking  for  some  time 
when  I  happened  to  put  my  hand  down  on  the  rail  on 
which  I  was  sitting,  and  just  for  the  fraction  of  a  second 
a  knot  on  the  rail  moved  slightly  and  then  settled  back  as 
quietly  as  before.  But  this  one  movement,  slight  as  it 
was,  was  enough  to  catch  my  eye,  and  I  could  see  that  the 
object  was  not  a  knot  but  a  bird.  Clearly  the  bird  felt  that 
she  had  made  a  mistake  in  moving,  but  still  believed  she 
had  not  been  detected.  At  any  rate  she  allowed  me  very 
slowly  to  move  my  hand  closer  until  with  a  grab  I  caught 
her.  It  was  a  whip-poor-will.  Several  times  since  I 
have  caught  whippoorwills  in  just  that  way;  but  at  the 
time  this  was  wholly  new  to  me,  and  was  my  first  experience 
with  animals  depending  for  protection  on  being  the  same 
color  as  the  surrounding  objects. 

I  had  several  surprizes  when  I  came  to  examine  my 
bird.  Her  body  was  about  the  size  of  a  robin.  In  color 
she  was  a  queer  mottling  of  dull  brownish,  blackish,  and 
gray  white — just  the  colors  we  see  on  our  dead  and  de- 
caying wood.  Her  feet  and  legs  were  small  and  poorly  de- 
veloped. I  am  sure  they  would  have  been  of  little  use 
in  walking,  but  this  is  of  little  importance  to  the  whip- 
poorwill,  for  she  does  little  of  that.  When  I  spread  her 
wings  I  met  another  surprize — they  were  so  long  and  well 
developed.  I  could  scarcely  believe  so  small  a  bird  could 
have  such  long  wings.  In  fact,  they  were  so  long  they 
appeared  very  slender,  tho  really  they  were  about  as  broad 
as  the  wings  of  some  other  bird  of  the  same  size. 

Many  an  evening  I  had  seen  whippoorwills  flit  about 
near  the  ground  over  pastures  and  fields  from  an  hour  or 
so  before  sunset  till  dark,  and  had  been  told  that  they 
were  catching  insects.  In  fact,  father  had  told  me  that  in- 


178    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

sects  were  their  only  food  and  that  they  fly  in  the  eve- 
ning because  at  that  time  most  of  the  winged  insects  are  in 
the  air.  I  expected  to  find  a  bird  with  a  large,  wide  bill, 
and  so  looked  at  my  whippoorwill's  head  very  carefully. 
The  head  was  broad  and  rather  large,  but  to  my  utter  sur- 
prize the  bill  seemed  little  larger  than  a  large  grain  of 
wheat.  There  were  a  lot  of  bristle-like  hairs  growing  at 
the  base  of  the  bill  which  made  her  look  still  more  queer.  I 
remarked  to  one  of  the  boys  that  I  had  never  seen  so  large 
a  bird  with  so  small  a  bill,  and  then,  as  I  had  been  used  to 
feeding  birds  that  way,  I  pulled  her  mouth  open  and  there 
came  my  greatest  surprize.  It  opened  clear  down  almost 
to  the  base  of  her  head.  It  looked  as  tho  she  could  easily 
swallow  something  much  larger  than  her  own  head,  for 
her  mouth  seemed  to  open  half  way  down  her  throat.  Then 
I  understood  how  she  could  catch  and  swallow  June  bugs 
and  other  large  beetles. 

The  whippoorwill  belongs  to  the  CaprimulgidaB  fam- 
ily, of  which  a  great  many  varieties  exist,  but  only  a  few 
live  in  the  United  States.  They  are  commonly  called  goat- 
suckers— I  suppose  because  the  mouth  is  so  big  that  people 
used  to  think  that  they  drew  milk  from  goats. 

We  have  four  principal  varieties  of  goatsuckers  in  this 
country  and  a  few  lesser  varieties  exist  also.  Three  are 
generally  known  in  the  United  States.  The  one  most 
common  is  the  nighthawk.  Throughout  the  summer 
over  a  great  part  of  the  United  States  this  bird  is  seen 
flying  about  over  fields  and  meadows  nearly  every  after- 
noon and  evening,  and  many  people  mistakenly  call  it  a 
whippoorwill.  The  nighthawk  differs  from  the  whip- 
poorwill in  that  it  is  larger  and  flies  well  up  in  the  air, 
while  both  the  whippoorwill  and  the  chuck-willVwidow 


A   STRANGE    NEST  17£> 

(the  third  common  variety)  seldom  fly  more  than  fif- 
teen or  twenty  feet  high.  The  nighthawk  has  long  slender 
wings  and  a  rapid  flight.  As  he  flies  over  us  we  can 
easily  distinguish  a  white  half  moon  on  the  under  side 
of  the  wings.  This  bird  is  accustomed  to  make  a  dive 
sidewise  or  downward  for  an  insect,  when  the  rush  of  the 
air  through  the  wing  feathers  produces  a  sort  of  half 
groan  and  half  grunt,  which  is  loud  enough  to  he  heard 
several  hundred  feet  away.  At  such  times  he  is  probably 
darting  after  prey. 

Nighthawks  are  common  along  the  Atlantic  coast  and 
have  been  observed  to  follow  boats  several  miles  out  to  sea. 
Their  main  food  is  June  bugs,  grasshoppers,  and  the  like. 
The  nighthawk  has  no  song.  In  color  it  is  somewhat 
similar  to  the  whippoorwill.  The  mother  bird  builds 
no  nest  but  lays  her  eggs  either  on  the  bare  ground  or  on 
on  a  bare  flat  rock  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
from  my  house.  She  selected  a  rock  that  was  about  her 
a  bare  flat  rock.  In  1921  a  nighthawk  raised  her  family 
own  color  and  there  she  would  sit  even  tho  we  came 
within  eight  or  ten  feet  of  her. 

One  spring  I  was  visiting  a  Mr.  Louie  Schmidt  near 
Bonaparte,  Iowa.  He  lived  on  a  farm  not  far  from  the 
Des  Moines  River,  and  as  there  was  considerable  brush 
and  timber  on  the  place  the  whippoorwills  were  abun- 
dant. One  night  when  the  moon  was  full  and  the  whip- 
poorwills were  whistling  on  every  hand,  we  decided  to  try 
to  see  a  bird  as  he  whistled.  We  crept  across  the  pasture 
to  the  border  of  a  field  full  of  hazel  brush  till  we  stopped 
within  twenty  feet  of  where  the  bird  was,  and  there  I  saw 
something  for  the  first  and  only  time — a  whippoorwill 
lying  flat  on  his  side  in  an  open  place  in  the  brush  whis- 


180    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

tling,  whippoorwill,  whippoorwill,  whippoorwill,  as 
fast  as  he  could.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  there  was  only 
one  thing  worth  doing  in  all  the  world  and  that 
was  to  see  how  many  times  he  could  whistle  whippoorwill 
in  a  minute.  We  watched  him  for  at  least  a  half  hour  and 
he  never  once  paused  for  breath.  This  whistling  without 
a  stop  or  break  is  a  characteristic  of  the  true  whippoor- 
will and  becomes  very  tiresome  after  a  time. 

Usually  whippoorwills  sit  on  the  top  of  a  house  or 
on  a  cattle  shed  or  some  similar  place  to  sing,  and  they 
keep  up  their  song  from  dark  till  dawn. 

The  chuck-will's-widow  and  the  poorwill  are  the  only 
birds  that  could  be  mistaken  for  a  whippoorwill.  Their 
habits  are  very  similar  to  the  whippoorwill's,  but  the  birds 
differ  in  song,  size,  and  details  of  coloration. 


XXVI 

THE  CHIMNEY  SWIFT 

THE  house  on  the  old  homestead  was  a  two-story  one, 
or  rather  what  nowadays  would  be  called  a  story- 
and-a-half,  which  means  that  the  upstairs  rooms  were 
rather  low  and  near  the  roof.  We  boys  slept  in  those 
upstairs  rooms,  and  the -chimney  was  only  a  few  feet  from 
the  head  of  my  bed.  Usually  I  thought  little  about  the 
chimney,  except  to  appreciate  it  on  cold  nights.  But  in 
the  summer-time  on  Sabbath  mornings,  and  on  other  morn- 
ings when  we  were  allowed  to  sleep  an  extra  hour,  this 
chimney  was  a  nuisance.  With  the  first  break  of  dawn 
the  trouble  began.  Suddenly  we  would  hear  a  rattling 
twitter,  then  a  rumbling  noise  as  tho  something  were 
being  poured  into  an  empty  barrel,  and  then  such  a  squeak- 
ing as  would  waken  even  a  tired  growing  boy.  No  sooner 
would  it  stop  and  one  would  turn  over,  feeling  that  now  he 
was  going  to  get  a  little  quiet,  than  the  whole  performance 
would  be  repeated.  As  the  morning  progressed,  the  noise 
became  so  persistent  that  it  was  impossible  to  sleep.  And 
what  do  you  suppose  caused  it  all? 

When  the  first  settlers  came  to  America,  among  other 
interesting  things  they  found  a  small  greenish  black  bird 
with  slender  wings  and  with  feet  so  poorly  developed  that 
it  very  seldom  attempts  to  alight.  This  bird  was  in  the 
habit  of  building  its  nest  in  tall  hollow  snags  or  trees. 

181 


182     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Like  the  Colorado  potato  beetle  and  the  American  cabbage- 
butterfly,  it  was  wise  enough  to  profit  by  the  com- 
ing of  the  white  man ;  for  no  sooner  had  the  settlers  begun 
to  build  chimneys  than  some  bird  wiser  or  more  curious 
than  her  neighbors  proceeded  to  look  the  situation  over. 
Whirling  in  ever  narrowing  circles  over  this  strange 
hollow  stone  tree  she  doubtless  was  attracted  by  its  com- 
fortable warmth  and  by  the  fact  that  it  would  be  secure 
from  owls,  snakes,  and  other  marauders.  Doubtless 
after  long  and  earnest  discussion  with  her  mate  she  made 
the  experiment  of  sticking  her  nest  to  the  inside  wall  of 
this  chimney. 

The  chimney  swift,  for  that  is  the  name  of  this  bird,  was 
a  very  careful  housewife,  and  suceeded  in  raising  a  family  of 
lusty  youngsters,  every  one  of  which,  we  can  imagine, 
sought  out  a  chimney  as  its  nesting  place  when  old  enough 
to  build  a  home  of  its  own.  Their  neighbors  and  com- 
panions were  not  long  in  following  the  example,  so  that 
long  since  they  have  forsaken  entirely  the  ways  of  their 
forefathers,  and  there  is  hardly  a  tall  chimney  in  the  land 
over  the  regions  where  Mrs.  Swift  and  her  tribe  spend 
the  summer  that  does  not  contain  from  one  to  a  dozen 
nests.  They  do  not  usually  nest  in  low  chimneys  on  one- 
story  houses  if  they  can  find  others.  Some  staid  old- 
fashioned  swifts  stuck  to  the  old  paths  for  a  long  time, 
however,  and  even  yet  one  occasionally  finds  a  tall  hollow 
sycamore  tree — the  favorite  nesting  place  of  the  swifts  for 
a  thousand  generations,  possibly  because  its  bark  is  too 
smooth  for  snakes  to  climb — in  which  these  birds  are  nest- 
ing. 

Mrs.  Swift  belongs  to  rather  a  small  family,  of  which 
we  have  only  three  other  members  in  this  country.  Swifts 


THE    CHIMNEY    SWIFT  183 

are  remarkable  birds  not  only  because  they  spend  a  large 
part  of  the  day  on  the  wing,  never  alighting  on  trees  and 
very  seldom  on  the  ground;  but  also  from  the  wonderful 
way  in  which  they  build  their  nests.  At  nesting  time 
these  birds  secrete  a  sticky  gelatin-like  saliva  which  they 
smear  on  the  inside  of  a  chimney  and  allow  to  dry.  Our 
chimney  swift  brings  small  sticks,  which  she  glues  fast  to 
this  mass,  and  little  by  little,  she  adds  more  glue  and  more 
sticks  until  the  nest  is  finished. 

It  is  interesting  to  watch  these  birds  gathering  sticks 
for  a  nest.  They  select  a  tree  whose  twigs  are  dead  but 
still  tough.  About  such  a  tree  near  our  house  one  could  see 
swifts  circling  in  great  numbers,  as  they  came  both  from 
our  house  and  from  our  nearest  neighbor's.  Suddenly  a 
bird  would  dash  at  a  twig,  catch  it  in  its  feet,  and  make  a 
peculiar  sidewise  jerk  which  snapped  it  off  short.  Away  the 
bird  dashed  to  the  nest,  carrying  the  stick  in  its  feet.  It 
seems  strange  for  a  bird  with  such  poorly  developed  feet  to 
carry  its  sticks  in  this  way,  when  most  birds  carry  them 
in  their  bills. 

The  nest  of  our  chimney  swift  is  made  about  half  and 
half  of  this  bird-glue  or  gelatin  and  sticks.  In  Southeast- 
ern Asia  and  the  East  Indies  one  of  her  cousins  uses  no 
sticks  at  all,  but  plasters  on  the  glue  little  by  little  until 
the  entire  nest  is  made  of  it.  The  natives  have  learned 
to  collect  these  birds'  nests  and  make  them  into  soup,  of 
which  they  are  very  fond.  People  who  have  eaten  bird's-nest 
soup  tell  me  that  it  really  is  fine.  In  fact,  bird's-nest  soup 
is  so  delicious  and  the  nests  are  so  hard  to  get  that  there 
are  few  articles  of  food  there  that  command  a  higher 
price. 

I  have  never  known  any  one  to  attempt  to  make  soup 


184     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

from  the  nests  of  our  chimney  swift,  and  I  do  not  think 
it  would  serve  that  purpose  well.  Even  if  all  the  sticks 
were  strained  out,  so  much  smoke  and  soot  settles  on  the 
nest  as  it  is  drying  that  I  am  sure  it  would  taste  more 
like  soot  soup  than  like  bird's-nest  soup. 

The  nests  are  usually  built  several  feet  from  the  top  of 
the  chimney,  and  are  almost  flat  on  the  side  that  touches 
the  chimney.  In  fact,  they  look  very  much  like  half  nests 
stuck  against  the  bricks. 

No  one  need  have  trouble  in  recognizing  the  chimney 
swift,  for  it  is  the  only  bird  that  enters,  much  less  nests, 
in  chimneys.  A  little  observation  will  make  it  easy  to 
recognize  this  bird  even  in  the  air,  for  the  only  birds  that 
much  resemble  it  in  flight  are  the  martins  and  swallows, 
and  all  of  these  that  are  found  in  the  neighborhood  of  a 
house  appear  considerably  larger  than  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Swift. 

As  a  child  I  wondered  how  Mrs.  Swift  managed  to  get 
her  youngsters  out  of  their  nest.  Usually  some  morning 
after  the  birds  had  been  exceptionally  noisy  and  annoying 
the  noise  would  cease,  and  going  out  into  the  yard  we 
would  find  the  family  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  chimney 
top  or  on  the  comb  of  the  roof.  It  was  never  more  than 
two  or  three  hours  till  they  were  flying  about  apparently 
as  active  as  their  parents,  and  we  were  not  able  to  tell 
which  were  the  young,  except  when  the  old  birds  fed  them. 
This  they  do  for  two  or  three  weeks  after  they  can  fly, 
feeding  them  while  in  full  flight  in  mid-air.  When 
feeding,  both  birds  remain  practically  still  in  the  air,  hov- 
ering much  as  a  humming  bird  does  in  front  of  a  flower. 

Almost  every  summer  some  over-ambitious  bird  would 
jump  out  of  the  nest  before  he  was  able  to  get  to  the  top 
of  the  chimney  and  then  we  would  hear  his  cries  of  dis- 


THE    CHIMNEY    SWIFT  185 

tress  far  down  at  the  bottom  of  the  chimney.  Many  times 
I  have  opened  the  hole  at  the  foot  of  the  chimney  and 
taken  these  young  birds  out,  but  I  was  never  able  to  raise 
one.  They  refused  to  eat  grasshoppers  and  crickets,  and 
I  was  not  able  to  catch  gnats  and  flies  for  them  as  their 
mother  had  done.  In  fact,  the  mother  feeds  her  young 
largely  on  ants  for  the  first  few  days,  and  then  gives  them 
partly  digested  insects  from  her  crop  till  they  are  nearly 
grown.  Perhaps  they  died  under  my  care  because  they 
had  been  hurt  in  falling  or  it  might  have  been  because 
they  had  been  used  to  the  warmth  of  the  chimney.  If 
the  young  bird  is  not  hurt  by  the  fall  it  may  climb  back 
into  the  nest.  These  birds  have  very  strong  sharp  claws 
and  a  stiff  tail.  The  old  birds  roost  at  night  with  their 
claws  stuck  into  the  side  of  a  brick,  and  their  tails  act 
as  props  to  hold  them  in  place.  Audubon  tells  us  that 
the  fledgling,  if  his  tail  has  grown  out,  can  hold  in  this 
way  and  climb  up  the  side  of  the  chimney  to  his  nest. 

One  afternoon  at  school  one  of  the  boys  whispered  the 
startling  news  to  me  that  the  chimney  swifts  were  on  the 
ground  out  by  the  old  cinder  pile  and  that  they  were  so 
gentle  one  could  get  within  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  of  them 
before  they  would  fly.  He  had  been  out  of  doors  and 
was  all  excited  over  his  discovery.  I  offered  some  excuse 
for  leaving  the  room  and  sure  enough  there  were  half  a 
dozen  swifts  hopping  about  on  the  cinders,  chirping.  It 
certainly  was  amusing  to  see  them  attempt  to  walk.  In 
fact,  one  could  hardly  give  the  name  of  walking  to  their 
peculiar  half -hitching  gait.  I  had  always  supposed  the 
swift  to  be  black,  but  now  I  discovered  he  was  a  brownish 
black  with  a  green  gloss  over  his  head  and  back.  The 
lower  parts  are  grayish  brown,  sometimes  slightly  tinged 


186    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

with  green ;  the  throat  is  dull  white,  and  there  is  a  lighter 
gray  line  over  each  eye.  His  very  long  wings  lie  back 
so  far  as  to  give  him  the  air  of  a  real  aristocrat. 

In  the  autumn,  when  the  nights  begin  to  get  cool,  the 
swifts  begin  to  show  anxiety.  They  can  be  seen  perching 
on  the  roof  or  even  sitting  about  on  the  ground.  Finally 
some  morning  we  notice  that  they  are  gone.  They  do 
not  leave  one  at  a  time,  but  all  that  are  nesting  in  any 
particular  farmstead  go  together.  One  afternoon  in  the 
fall  at  Madison,  Tennessee,  I  saw  a  large  number  of  chim- 
ney swifts  flying  about  over  the  school  premises.  They 
acted  as  tho  perfectly  at  home,  darting  back  and  forth 
catching  insects.  This  was  a  great  surprize  to  me,  for 
I  have  known  only  a  few  pairs  to  nest  on  this  place.  About 
sundown  I  noticed  that  they  were  circling  about  a  large 
old  chimney  stack.  Sometimes  they  would  leave  the  region 
of  this  chimney  for  several  minutes,  and  then  would  come 
back  and  circle  about  it  again.  Just  as  the  sun  was  sink- 
ing below  the  horizon  one  more  daring  than  the  rest 
darted  down  the  chimney,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to 
write  it  there  was  not  a  bird  in  sight.  All  of  them  passed 
the  night  in  this  chimney,  flew  about  over  the  place  for 
two  or  three  hours  in  the  morning,  catching  their  break- 
fasts, and  then  departed.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  mi- 
grating chimney  swifts  to  stop  in  this  way  and  rest.  In 
the  fall  of  1921  hundreds  of  them  roosted  every  night  for 
ten  days  or  more  in  th6  tall  chimneys  of  our  heating  plant, 
and  some  birds  remained  all  day. 

In  the  spring  they  do  not  appear  to  come  back  one  at  a 
time,  tho  it  is  often  reported  that  they  do  so.  All  the 
swifts  in  our  neighborhood  usually  came  back  together.  I 
remember  one  day  we  boys  were  out  on  the  school  grounds 


THE    CHIMNEY    SWIFT  187 

playing  ball  when  suddenly  the  chimney  swifts  began  to 
fly  around  the  house.  In  and  out  of  the  chimney  they 
chased  each  other,  evidently  in  the  greatest  glee  to  find 
themselves  at  home  again.  Pretty  soon  we  discovered 
more  passing  overhead,  and  when  I  got  home  that  evening 
the  first  sight  that  greeted  my  eyes  was  the  chimney  swifts 
darting  in  and  out  of  our  chimney.  The  next  morning 
every  boy  in  the  school  reported  the  same  thing  at  his 
home,  and  all  agreed  that  they  must  have  arrived  at  every 
house  in  the  district  within  a  few  minutes.  Whatever 
you  may  do  with  other  birds,  allow  no  one  to  kill  the  chim- 
ney swift,  for  he  feeds  entirely  on  insects  such  as  mos- 
quitoes, gnats,  flies,  and  ants,  and  he  catches  most  of  them 
near  the  house,  just  the  place  where  they  do  the  greatest 
harm. 


XXVII 

RUBYTHROAT 

IN  the  northwest  corner  of  our  yard  stood  a  clump  of 
Blue  Damson  plum  trees.  They  had  not  always  heen 
Blue  Damson  plums.  Father  had  set  out  only  one  tree  and 
it  was  supposed  to  be  a  large  blue  plum.  This  tree  never 
ripened  any  fruit  because  of  the  plum  curculio.  You  can 
read  the  story  of  this  in  "Knowing  Insects  Through  Sto- 
ries." Finally  this  tree  died  or  was  broken  down.  In  its 
stead  a  number  of  sprouts  came  up,  grew  vigorously,  and 
within  two  or  three  years  were  bearing.  We  could  not  know 
whether  they  were  like  the  parent  tree  or  not  until  they 
were  large  enough  to  bear,  and  as  plum  trees  were  expensive 
in  those  days  all  were  left  to  see  what  they  would  be.  After 
these  bore  and  proved  to  be  damsons,  we  cut  out  the 
weaker  trees  and  allowed  eight  or  ten  of  the  best  to  re- 
main. 

On  one  side  of  these  Damson  plums  stood  a  clump  of 
hardy  hibiscus  that  died  to  the  ground  each  winter  but 
came  up  every  spring  and  made  plants  six  feet  or  more 
tall,  and  for  weeks  bore  a  mass  of  giant  white  flowers  with 
crimson  centers.  Growing  beside  this  hibiscus  were  sev- 
eral clumps  of  columbine,  and  ten  or  fifteen  feet  away  was 
a  coral  honeysuckle,  while  roses  grew  in  profusion  all 
over  the  yard.  It  is  small  wonder  that  mother  and  father 

189 


RUBYTHROAT  189 

Rubythroat  should  select  this  particular  corner  of  the 
yard  for  their  home.  They  lived  there  for  several  years 
and  may  be  living  there  yet  for  all  I  know.  They  cer- 
tainly were  when  I  left  the  old  home. 

Now  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rubythroat  were  humming  birds. 
Humming  birds  belong  to  the  Trochilidae  family  and  are 
easy  to  recognize,  first,  because  some  of  them  are  the  small- 
est of  birds;  second,  because  they  are  mostly  brilliantly 
colored ;  and,  last  but  not  least,  because  they  vibrate  their 
wings  so  rapidly  that  they  make  a  humming  sound,  a 
thing  that  no  other  bird  does.  All  humming  birds  are 
American,  but  most  of  them  live  in  tropical  America.  In 
the  West  Indies  there  are  many  kinds,  but  one  needs  to  go 
to  the  Amazon  basin  and  to  the  Andes  Mountains  to  find 
them  in  all  their  glory.  Some  of  these  are  scarcely  larger 
than  bumblebees,  while  the  largest  are  almost  as  large  as 
a  sparrow.  Some  of  them  have  very  beautiful  crests  and 
others  long  brilliantly  colored  tails.  In  spite  of  these 
differences  they  are  much  alike,  and  no  one  who  has  ever 
seen  one  kind  would  fail  to  recognize  any  other  as  a  hum- 
ming bird,  tho  he  might  not  know  what  particular  kind 
it  was.  East  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  north  of  Texas 
we  never  see  any  humming  bird  but  the  rubythroat.  He 
is  a  beautiful  peacock  green  above  with  a  sheen  of  gold 
and  bronze  when  the  sunlight  flashes  on  him.  His  throat 
is  ruby  red,  hence  his  name. 

Notwithstanding  that  he  is  so  small,  the  humming  bird 
is  a  bold,  active  bird,  and  at  least  one  kind  nests  during 
the  short  summer  season  in  the  southern  part  of  Alaska. 
In  California,  New  Mexico,  and  Arizona  there  are  about 
fourteen  different  kinds  to  be  found;  but  as  Mr.  Ruby- 
throat  is  found  over  more  territory  than  any  of  the  others 


190     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

we  tell  his  story.  He  is  found  practically  all  over  the 
Eastern  United  States  and  Southeastern  Canada,  so  you 
will  have  no  trouble  in  locating  him. 

The  first  I  remember  seeing  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rubythroat 
was  on  a  day  early  in  May  when  I  was  about  five  years 
old.  I  was  playing  in  the  front  yard  when  I  heard  a 
peculiar  humming,  and  looking  up  saw  a  bird  literally 
standing  in  the  air  not  three  feet  away  and  staring  into 
my  face.  His  wings  moved  so  fast  I  could  hardly  see  them, 
yet  he  stood  perfectly  still.  Finally  his  curiosity  being 
satisfied,  he  gave  a  little  squeek,  whirled  over  the  house, 
circled  around  a  time  or  two  and  came  back  to  the  Yellow 
Harrison  rose  bush  that  was  just  opening  its  first  blooms. 
I  remember  watching  with  great  interest  as  he  went  from 
one  rose  to  another,  pushing  his  sharp  bill  in  among  the 
stamens  and  pistils  and  licking  up  insects,  pollen,  and 
possibly  nectar.  Finally  he  flew  to  a  clump  of  bluebells 
that  were  still  in  bloom  and  proceeded  to  suck  nectar  from 
them. 

I  determined  to  watch  these  birds  and  find  their  nest. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  birds  so  small  as  they  would  build 
a  veritable  fairy  nest,  and  I  was  anxious  to  see  how  they 
would  go  about  it  and  also  to  see  their  eggs.  I  saw  these 
birds  every  day  and  almost  every  hour  in  the  day  for 
weeks  and  felt  sure  that  their  nesting  place  was  either  in 
one  of  the  plum  trees  or  in  a  Norway  spruce  hard  by ;  but 
for  all  my  watching  I  could  not  find  it.  These  birds 
nested  in  our  yard  every  year  from  that  time  until  I  was 
sixteen  years  old  and  left  home  to  enter  college.  I  do  not 
believe  there  was  a  single  summer  in  all  that  time  that  I 
did  not  spend  hours  hunting  for  their  nest.  I  felt  per- 
fectly sure  that  they  built  in  that  part  of  the  yard;  and 


RUBYTHROAT  191 

after  the  Blue  Damson  trees  got  large  enough  to  bear  I 
even  thought  I  knew  that  the  nest  was  in  one  of  these 
trees,  but  I  never  discovered  it. 

I  have  spent  many  a  Sabbath  afternoon  sitting  under 
these  trees  with  a  book  or  paper,  determined  to  watch  un- 
til I  saw  those  birds  go  to  their  nest.  Every  time  I  heard 
a  whir  I  looked  up,  but  the  birds  were  more  shrewd 
than  I. 

The  young  birds  appeared  regularly  at  the  proper  time, 
and  I  knew  their  family  life  well,  but  they  were  so  expert 
at  hiding  their  nest  that  they  baffled  all  my  family.  I 
saw  humming  birds'  nests  at  some  of  the  neighbors',  how- 
ever. The  first  one  I  remember  seeing  was  in  Dan  Davis' 
yard  in  a  giant  white  elm  tree  too  large  to  climb.  Tho 
this  nest  was  scarcely  more  than  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
diameter  it  was  built  on  the  top  of  a  limb  as  thick  through 
as  a  man's  body.  It  was  made  of  horsehair,  thistle  down, 
and  feathers,  stuck  into  a  crack  in  the  rough  bark,  and 
covered  with  lichens  glued  on  with  the  bird's  saliva.  This 
tree  stood  on  a  sidehill  where  we  could  see  the  nest  and 
even  get  close  enough  to  know  what  was  going  on  in  it, 
but  we  could  not  get  at  it.  After  the  young  birds  had 
flown,  some  of  the  boys  put  a  ladder  against  this  tree  and 
took  the  nest  down,  and  we  tore  it  up  to  see  how  it  was 
made. 

My  birds  of  the  plum  trees  were  great  fighters.  I  sup- 
pose there  is  not  a  bird  that  lives  that  is  more  aggressive 
than  the  humming  bird.  He  is  always  on  the  lookout  for 
any  bird  that  might  possibly  do  his  mate  or  his  nest  harm. 
If  he  does  not  find  such  a  one,  he  will  fight  anyway  if  he 
can  meet  an  opponent.  He  is  the  one  bird  with  which  I 
am  acquainted  that  does  not  hesitate  to  attack  the  kingbird 


192     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

or  the  martin.  In  fact  he  seems  to  have  a  special  grudge 
against  those  two  birds,  and  my  ruby  throats  would  not 
allow  the  kingbirds  to  come  into  that  part  of  the  yard  at 
all.  If  perchance  Jerry  happened  to  venture  into  his  do- 
main, before  he  knew  it  Mr.  Rubythroat  was  upon  him. 
Quicker  than  a  flash  he  would  strike  with  his  sharp  bill 
again  and  again.  His  tactics  were  even  more  aggressive 
than  those  of  the  kingbird  himself;  and  since  he  was  so 
small  and  so  very  active,  Jerry  had  a  bitter  taste  of  the 
medicine  he  so  delighted  to  give  Jim  Crow  and  the  old 
brown  tailed  chicken  hawk.  When  I  was  among  the 
plum  trees  my  birds  were  very  uneasy  indeed,  flashing 
about  my  head  and  squeaking  but  never  daring  to  strike. 
Sometimes  they  would  alight  within  two  or  three  feet  of  me 
and  squeak  and  fuss,  all  of  which  led  me  to  think  that 
the  nest  was  close. 

Since  I  have  been  grown  I  have  had  the  privilege  of 
watching  humming  birds  build  their  nests.  The  ordinary 
nest  of  this  bird  is  built  of  down  and  soft  vegetable  sub- 
stances and  is  covered  on  the  outside  with  lichens.  I  have 
known  of  but  one  nest  that  contained  hairs.  These 
lichens  are  carefully  picked  from  the  limbs  of  trees  and 
match  their  surroundings  so  well  that  the  nest  is  hard  to 
find.  I  am  quite  sure  now  that  my  humming  birds  nested 
for  several  years  on  a  half  dead  limb  on  one  of  the  plum 
trees  that  was  covered  for  several  feet  with  a  growth  of 
lichens.  I  never  dared  climb  this  limb  for  fear  it  would 
break,  and  evidently  my  eye  could  not  distinguish  between 
the  lichens  which  covered  the  nest  and  those  growing  on 
the  limb.  Another  thing  that  makes  a  humming  bird's 
nest  so  difficult  to  find  is  the  fact  that  the  bird  rises  high 
in  the  air  when  she  starts  to  her  nest  and  when  she 


RUBYTHROAT  i9S 

reaches  the  spot,  seems  to  drop  upon  the  nest  from  nowhere 
like  a  holt  out  of  the  sky. 

The  humming  bird  lays  only  two  eggs.  They  are  white 
and  scarcely  larger  than  a  small  navy  bean.  The  bird  sits 
usually  fourteen  to  fifteen  days.  When  the  young  are 
hatched,  they  are  as  helpless  looking  little  creatures  as 
one  could  imagine.  They  are  scarcely  as  large  as  a  tumble- 
bug  and  as  naked  as  a  young  mouse.  They  are  so  weak  and 
frail  that  they  can  scarcely  raise  their  heads  for  food. 
The  mother  is  exceedingly  careful  of  them,  hovering  them 
solicitously  for  two  or  three  days.  She  feeds  them  by 
sticking  her  bill  down  their  throats.  When  the  young  are 
half  grown  she  begins  feeding  them  freshly  caught  insects. 
Within  sixteen  days  they  are  ready  to  leave  the  nest  and 
fly.  Think  of  it,  a  perfectly  naked  bird  growing  to 
maturity,  putting  on  the  brilliant  plumage  of  a  humming 
bird,  and  becoming  ready  to  leave  the  nest  and  meet  the 
cares  and  dangers  of  the  big  broad  world  all  within  sixteen 
days !  Within  three  or  four  days  the  mother  lays  two  more 
eggs.  During  this  time  the  young  humming  birds  have 
been  taught  to  find  the  sweetest  flowers  and  to  catch  the 
choicest  insects,  and  then  they  are  left  to  shift  for  them- 
selves. They  quickly  leave  the  vicinity  of  the  nest,  and 
usually  all  of  the  young  humming  birds  in  the  neighbor- 
hood collect  together,  either  for  the  fun  of  racing  with 
each  other  or  because  they  feel  more  secure  because  of 
their  numbers.  I  have  seen  in  our  yard  as  many  as  eight 
or  ten  young  humming  birds  in  one  flock  dashing  after 
one  another  over  the  lawn  and  into  the  rose  bushes  and 
columbines  till  tired  out,  and  then  they  would  finally  set- 
tle to  rest  on  the  branches  of  a  tree. 

The  young,  and  for  that  matter  the  mother  bird,  do  not 


194    KNOWING  BIRDS  .THROUGH  STORIES 

have  the  ruby  throat.  The  young  males  have  the  throat 
whitish  finely  streaked  with  dusky,  taking  on  the  brighter 
color  much  later.  The  humming  bird  feeds  largely  on 
small  insects  that  gather  in  tubular  flowers.  He  has  a 
partly  tubular  tongue  which  enables  him  to  extract  these 
insects  readily  and  also  any  nectar  which  may  be  in  a  tube 
of  the  flower. 

But  these  birds  do  not  depend  on  flowers  alone  for  their 
food.  I  have  seen  them  "stand"  for  two  or  three  minutes 
at  a  time  in  front  of  a  branch  on  a  box  elder  tree  and 
lick  the  aphids  off  of  the  leaves  with  their  long  sticky 
tongues.  I  am  sure  most  of  you  have  seen  gnats,  mosquitoes, 
or  other  small  insects  flying  in  swarms  of  a  summer  after- 
noon The  humming  bird  delights  to  find  such  a  swarm. 
He  darts  back  and  forth  through  it  catching  insects  until, 
tired  out,  he  has  to  perch  and  rest,  only  to  return  to  the 
chase  in  a  few  moments  if  the  insects  are  still  in  sight. 
.  Mother  Humming  Bird  usually  raises  two  broods  in  a 
Bummer.  Mr.  Humming  Bird  seldom  alights,  but  when 
he  does  the  first  thing  he  begins  to  do  is  to  primp.  He  will 
take  a  few  steps  sidewise,  crane  his  neck,  ruffle  his  feathers, 
lift  first  one  wing  and  then  the  other  and  finally  begin  to 
run  each  quill  feather  in  his  wings  separately  through  his 
bill.  It  takes  quite  a  while  to  attend  to  this,  but  he  goes 
through  the  performance  perhaps  a  dozen  or  fifteen  times 
a  day. 

If  two  strange  humming  birds  happen  to  meet,  there  is 
almost  sure  to  be  a  hard  battle.  The  first  humming  birds 
I  ever  caught  were  two  which  were  fighting  so  fiercely  that 
they  fell  to  the  ground  and  failed  to  notice  me  until  I  had 
my  hat  over  them.  It  is  said  that  animals  which  have 


RUBYTHROAT  195 

never  developed  patience  by  bringing  up  a  slow  growing 
family  are  always  high  tempered.  Evidently  this  is  true  of 
the  humming  bird.  The  young  grow  up  very  quickly,  and 
surely  none  are  more  high  tempered  and  more  ready  to 
fight. 

A  friend  of  mine  one  day  found  a  humming  bird  that 
had  in  some  way  injured  its  wing  and  could  not  fly.  He 
made  a  splint  out  of  a  piece  of  match  straw,  carefully 
bound  up  the  wing  and  fed  the  bird  on  sugar  sirup  with 
an  occasional  small  gnat  or  beetle.  In  a  very  few  days 
the  bird  was  able  to  fly,  but  by  this  time  it  had  become 
so  tame  that  it  did  not  care  to  leave  the  house.  It  would 
sit  on  the  back  of  a  chair  or  fly  about  the  room  for  hours 
at  a  time.  Its  wing  was  not  very  strong,  so  it  was  not 
able  to  make  long  flights  or  to  remain  in  the  air  long  at 
a  time.  He  used  to  fill  an  old  fashioned  fountain-pen 
filler  with  thin  sugar  sirup  and  hold  it  up  for  Mr.  Ruby- 
throat,  who  would  come  and  thrust  his  bill  into  the  end  of 
the  glass  tube  and  suck  up  the  sirup.  My  friend  being 
somewhat  of  a  musician,  and  having  a  scientific  turn  of 
mind  decided  one  day  that  he  would  like  to  know  just  how 
many  times  Mr.  Humming  Bird  moved  his  wings  in  a 
second  when  he  was  hovering  before  the  fountain  pen 
filler  sipping  sirup.  Accordingly  he  took  his  violin  and 
picked  out  the  tone  that  exactly  harmonized  with  the 
hum  of  Rubythroat's  wings.  The  tone  was  "A"  below  mid- 
dle "C"  and  as  it  takes  two  hundred-fourteen  vibrations 
per  second  to  produce  this  tone  this  tiny  little  bird 
actually  fluttered  his  wings  two  hundred  and  fourteen  times 
a  second.  It  seems  almost  impossible  that  so  small  a  bird 
can  generate  energy  enough  to  do  this  enormous  amount 


196    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

of  work  for  hours  every  day;  but  any  one  who  has  seen  a 
cross  old  bumblebee  attack  a  humming  bird  that  has 
crowded  him  out  of  a  flower  knows  that  he  simply  makes 
sport  of  the  bee's  anger,  tantalizing  him  in  much  the  same 
way  that  a  jack  rabbit  on  the  western  plains  will  tantalize 
a  farm  dog,  keeping  just  far  enough  ahead  to  cause  it  to 
exert  itself  to  the  limit  and,  when  he  has  had  sport  enough, 
darting  away  like  a  flash. 

j  Sugar  is  suitable  for  furnishing  a  large  amount  of  heat 
and  energy  to  such  things  as  bees  and  humming  birds  that 
•have  power  to  digest  it;  but  even  they  can  not  live  on  this 
valone.  My  friend's  bird  in  about  three  or  four  weeks  be- 
gan to  grow  droopy  and  showed  clearly  that  he  was  not 
well  in  spite  of  the  fact  he  was  fed  a  few  insects.  Finally 
he  was  taken  out  of  doors  and  allowed  to  fly  to  the  honey- 
suckle vine  and  the  jimson  weed  flowers  where  he  caught 
an  abundance  of  insects  and  doubtless  ate  pollen,  and  soon 
he  became  all  right  again. 

|  When  the  autumn  days  came  the  great  spirit  that  guides 
the  feathered  folk  whispered  in  his  ear  one  evening  that  it 
,was  time  to  fly  away  to  the  sunny  land  of  flowers  beyond 
jthe  seas.  He  was  well  then,  and  had  been  active  all  day; 
but  he  was  seen  for  the  last  time  only  an  hour  before 
sundown.  The  next  morning  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
il  am  sure  humming  birds  migrate  at  night,  for  they  are 
always  gone  some  morning  after  being  active  all  day. 
^ubythroat  never  came  back  again  unless  he  was  the  bird 
who  nested  the  next  year  on  the  branch  of  the  Norway 
spruce  in  my  friend's  yard.  We  could  not  be  quite  sure 
,whether  this  was  true  or  not,  for  this  bird,  while  tamer 
than  any  other  wild  humming  bird  I  have  ever  seen,  was 
yet  too  wild  to  allow  any  one  to  handle  him,  while  it  had 


RUBYTHROAT  197 

been  Rubythroat's  delight  to  perch  on  one's  fingers  to 
preen  his  feathers.  Humming  birds  are  very  easy  to 
tame.  Almost  as  soon  as  they  have  been  fed  they  lose 
all  fear,  recognizing  that  only  a  friend  would  furnish  them 
such  wonderful  nectar  as  sugar  sirup.  This  is  best  made 
by  diluting  sugar  with  ten  or  twelve  times  its  bulk  of  water. 
All  that  is  necessary  is  to  put  it  in  a  cup  and  allow  the  bird 
to  get  a  taste  of  it  by  carefully  placing  his  bill  in  the  sirup. 
He  drinks  greedily,  if  hungry,  often  plunging  his  bill  and 
head  in  the  sirup  up  to  his  eyes. 

The  Rufous  humming  bird  is  about  as  large  as  the 
Rubythroat.  It  is  he  that  is  found  in  Southern  Alaska. 
I  have  never  been  in  this  region,  but  I  have  seen  these 
birds  in  the  vicinity  of  Bellingham,  Washington,  and 
Portland,  Oregon.  We  have  some  fourteen  varieties  of 
humming  birds  in  California  and  the  Southwest.  As  be- 
fore stated  the  members  of  the  family  are  easily  recognized 
by  their  small  size  and  by  the  humming  of  their  wings, 
even  tho  one  should  not  catch  them  and  examine  the 
partly  tubular  tongue  and  the  long  pointed  bill.  Tho 
the  humming  bird  appears  to  be  very  slender,  if  one  should 
pick  off  all  his  feathers  he  would  be  surprized  to  find  what 
a  plump  muscular  little  fellow  he  is.  The  breast  is  espe- 
cially plump  and  well  developed. 

Key  to  the  Families  of  Macrochires 

TROCHILID.E — Humming  birds. 

With  the  bill  long  and  slender,  the  gape  narrow,  and  wing  with  only  6 
secondaries. 

M I CROPODID  M S  wi  its. 

Birds  of  firm  plumage,  with  bill  short  and  broad,  gape  wide,  secon- 
daries more  than  6,  and  with  the  claw  of  middle  toe  without  a  comb- 
like  edge. 

CAPRIMULGID;E — Goatsuckers. 

Birds   of   soft   plumage,   with   middle   toe   decidedly   longer  than    the 


198     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 


anterior   toes,   the   claw  of  the   middle  toe   with   a   comb-like   edge; 
bill   with   conspicuous   bristles;   tail  rounded,  and  the  folded  wing  not 
reaching  to  the  end  of  the  tail. 
CHOKDBILIDJB — Nighthawks. 

Like  the  CAPRI MULGID.X,  but  with  the  bill  lacking  conspicuous  bristles, 
the  tail  forked,  and  the  folded  wings  reaching  to  or  beyond  the  end 
of  the  tail. 


Tail  and  Foot  of  SWIFT 


XXVIII 

JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD 

THERE  was  a  Red  June  apple  tree  just  back  of  the 
house  that  was  a  favorite  with  us  children.  It  was 
different  from  any  other  Red  June  tree  I  have  ever  seen. 
It  was  larger  and  thriftier,  and  grew  in  as  perfect  a  cone 
shape  as  any  hard  maple.  Even  when  the  other  trees  did 
not  bear,  we  could  find  apples  on  this  one,  but  they  ripened 
four  or  five  days  later  than  on  the  other  trees.  They  also 
lasted  two  or  three  weeks  after  the  others  were  gone.  In 
flavor  they  were  identical  with  that  king  of  early  apples, 
the  Red  June,  but  in  size  were  really  giants.  It  was 
not  uncommon  to  get  apples  off  this  tree  that  were  as 
large  as  the  Ben  Davis  or  the  Delicious  which  we  often 
buy  now-a-days  on  the  fruit  stand  at  a  high  price.  In  my 
boyhood  days  we  did  not  think  of  price.  We  helped  our- 
selves to  all  we  could  eat  and  as  often  as  we  wished,  gave 
to  the  neighbors  who  happened  not  to  have  plenty  of  their 
own,  and  even  then  had  abundance  to  can,  to  make  cider, 
jelly,  or  apple  butter,  and  to  feed  the  pigs.  I  can  almost 
taste  those  wonderful  mellow  apples  yet !  We  used  to  get 
a  dozen  or  so,  peel  off  the  skin,  mash  them  in  a  dish,  mix 
them  with  real  cream,  and  have  them  for  breakfast — all 
one  could  eat  and  no  one  to  think  we  were  extravagant. 
But  I  must  get  back  to  my  story.  Jerry  the  kingbird 

199 


200    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

evidently  had  reasons  of  his  own  for  preferring  this  Red 
June.  I  was  never  sure  what  his  reasons  were,  but  have 
always  been  suspicious  that  the  fact  that  this  tree  stood  on 
the  edge  of  the  apiary,  where  there  were  fifty  or  a  hundred 
swarms  of  bees,  had  something  to  do  with  it. 

If  I  remember  correctly  it  was  about  the  first  of  May, 
1883,  that  I  first  met  Jerry.  I  was  in  the  back  yard  watch- 
ing the  red  ants  clear  a  path  from  their  home  to  a  new 
pasture  when  I  noticed  Jerry  making  love  to  a  shy  young 
bird  about  his  own  size  and  color.  It  was  plain  that  he 
was  making  love  to  her,  for  every  time  she  moved  he 
would  fly  around  and  around  her,  fluttering  his  wings  in 
the  most  excited  manner  possible,  twittering  and  chatter- 
ing all  the  time.  She  seemed  to  pay  little  heed  to  him, 
as  is  the  way  of  maidens  in  general,  and  when  he  became 
too  persistent  in  his  attentions  she  flew  to  another  tree. 
No  matter,  she  hardly  had  time  to  alight  before  there  was 
Jerry  close  beside  her.  Sometimes  she  would  fly  up  into 
the  air  in  a  spiral  a  hundred  or  two  feet  high.  Neverthe- 
less there  was  her  insistent  lover  flying  around  her  and  pro- 
testing in  the  loudest  tones  that  he  would  be  the  most 
wonderful  husband  on  earth  if  only  she  would  consent.  I 
watched  them  till  mother  called  me  to  gather  the  eggs  and 
get  in  the  evening  supply  of  wood.  When  that  work  was 
done,  supper  had  to  be  eaten  and  the  cows  milked,  and 
by  that  time  all  honest  birds  were  sleeping. 

The  next  morning,  however,  there  was  Jerry  making  love 
as  insistently  as  the  night  before.  It  was  plain  to  a  mere 
outsider  that  he  had  already  won  his  suit,  but  that  his 
lady  fair  was  not  prepared  to  admit  the  fact ;  he,  however, 
was  pressing  his  suit  more  ardently  than  ever.  For  all 
their  love  making,  both  had  plenty  of  time  to  catch  a  fly 


JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD  201 

if  it  happened  that  way.  While  I  watched,  a  beautiful 
yellow  butterfly  came  flitting  by.  Quick  as  a  wink  Jerry 
caught  him.  Evidently  that  butterfly  was  quite  a  prize, 
for  while  in  the  past  each  had  eaten  whatever  they  caught, 
Jerry  promptly  presented  his  lady  love  with  this  butterfly, 
which  she  took  as  a  matter  of  course  and  swallowed  greed- 
ily. I  had  to  go  about  my  business  and  do  not  know 
whether  the  butterfly  had  anything  to  do  with  it,  but  by 
afternoon  the  matter  was  evidently  settled,  for  I  found 
these  birds  apparently  talking  over  the  best  place  to  set 
up  housekeeping. 

I  want  to  say  just  a  word  about  the  kingbird  family. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kingbird  are  flycatchers,  and  belong  to  a 
large  family  of  flycatchers  of  which  we  have  a  number  in 
the  United  States.  I  am  telling  you  the  story  of  the  king- 
bird because  he  is  found  in  practically  every  State  in  the 
Union  and  none  of  the  other  flycatchers  are  so  widely  dis- 
tributed in  the  summer,  when  most  people  study  birds. 
They  are  known  as  flycatchers  because  many  species  live 
almost  wholly  on  flying  insects.  They  are  moderately 
small  birds  with  an  alert,  nervous  appearance.  As  most 
species  seldom  alight  on  the  ground  and  never  scratch, 
their  feet  and  legs  are  generally  short,  altho  they  have 
four  good  strong  toes,  the  hind  toe  not  being  much  if 
any  longer  than  the  others.  Their  claws  are  sharp,  mod- 
erately strong,  and  arched,  so  that  they  can  cling  tightly 
to  a  limb.  In  the  smaller  species  the  plumage  is  soft  and 
blending.  In  many  species  the  bill  is  more  or  less  tri- 
angular and  rather  wide  at  the  base  to  make  it  convenient 
for  catching  insects.  The  tail  is  usually  of  moderate 
length.  Many  varieties  have  a  topknot  and  a  small  red  or 
yellow  spot  on  the  top  of  the  head.  The  male  king  bird 


202     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

is  usually  a  great  fighter,  especially  when  his  mate  is  sit- 
ting. He  perches  on  a  branch  over  the  nest  and  attacks 
every  bird  that  comes  in  sight,  and  the  larger  the  bird 
the  more  certain  he  is  to  attack  it. 

The  kingbird  is  so  called  because  he  is  such  a  little 
terror  for  fighting  other  birds.  The  farmers  often  call  them 
the  bee  martin,  because  in  size  and  appearance  when  flying 
he  somewhat  resembles  a  martin,  and  when  other  food  is 
short  he  sometimes  catches  bees.  I  have  often  seen  Jerry 
do  that,  but  from  my  observation  I  am  led  to  believe 
that  he  usually  catches  drones.  I  do  not  mean  that  if  there 
were  no  drones  and  he  was  hungry  he  would  refuse  a  per- 
fectly good  worker  bee,  but  drones  are  his  preference. 

In  color  the  bee  martin  is  a  dark  bluish  gray  above, 
while  the  head  is  grayish  black  crowned  with  a  vermilion 
spot  bordered  with  yellow.  The  wings  and  tail  are  tipped 
with  white.  The  breast  is  gray  or  sometimes  nearly  white. 
The  female  has  an  orange  crown  patch  on  her  head  a  lit- 
tle smaller  than  that  of  the  male. 

Jerry  and  his  wife  decided  to  build  their  nest  in  the  very 
top  of  my  Eed  June  tree.  First  they  selected  a  number 
of  small  dry  twigs  and  placed  them  as  a  foundation  in  the 
forks  of  some  small  branches.  Next  they  went  to  the 
sheep  pen  and  gathered  wool  in  abundance  and  made  a 
thick  felt  lining  for  their  nest.  This  evidently  was  in- 
tended to  keep  it  warm  and  to  protect  the  eggs  from  any- 
thing that  might  strike  the  side  of  the  nest.  Next  they 
began  to  take  the  strings  and  horsehair  that  had  been  put 
up  for  the  Baltimore  orioles'  special  use  and  went  to  a  great 
pile  of  flax  straw  and  gathered  quantities  of  tow.  Of  these 
strings,  tow,  and  horsehair  he  built  a  very  neat  nest  inside 
of  the  wool  lining.  I  say  (fhe,"  for  Jerry  seemed  to  be 


JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD  203 

master  of  ceremonies  in  the  nest  building.  His  wife 
helped  all  she  could  but  Jerry  bossed  the  job. 

As  soon  as  the  nest  was  done,  the  mother  bird  quietly 
slipped  on  while  Jerry  perched  on  the  very  topmost  twig 
of  the  tree  to  watch  for  intruders.  Old  Jim  Crow,  who 
was  nesting  down  by  the  creek,  having  decided  that  grass- 
hoppers should  be  plentiful  in  the  meadow,  started  across 
the  orchard  to  this  hunting  ground.  Before  he  was  nearer 
than  two  or  three  hundred  yards,  Jerry  gave  utterance  to 
his  sharp  tremulous  cry,  and  made  straight  for  Jim.  Evi- 
dently the  crow  knew  what  was  coming,  for  with  the  first 
sound  of  Jerry's  voice  he  began  to  fly  as  fast  as  possible, 
and  dropped  down  close  to  the  tree  tops,  hoping  to  escape 
notice.  Like  a  fury  Jerry  was  upon  him,  pecking  from 
above,  below,  both  sides,  circling  round  and  round,  chat- 
tering and  scolding,  and  finally  as  a  climax  to  his  rage 
alighted  on  the  crow's  back  between  the  wings  and  began 
pecking  and  tearing  out  the  feathers.  Half  a  dozen 
came  fluttering  to  the  earth  as  proof  of  the  fierceness  of 
the  onslaught. 

The  crow  screamed  in  rage,  dashed  up  and  down,  back 
and  forth,  and  in  vain  attempted  to  escape ;  but  it  was  not 
until  he  was  a  full  quarter  of  a  mile  away  that  Jerry  left 
him  and  returned  to  exult  and  explain  to  his  wife  the  great 
feat  he  had  performed.  He  had  hardly  alighted  on  his 
lookout  when  he  spied  the  family  cat  quietly  sitting  in  the 
back  yard.  Here  was  another  possible  enemy,  and  with 
his  shrill  challenge  he  rushed  for  her.  Poor  kitty  sat  up 
mystified,  hardly  knowing  what  to  do,  when  whack  he  took 
her  in  the  back  of  the  head.  She  struck  at  him  with  her 
paw,  but  before  she  could  think  he  was  out  of  reach,  cir- 
cling round,  striking  her  again  and  again.  Before  many 


204.     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

moments  kitty  owned  defeat  and  dashed  into  the  rasp- 
berries for  protection. 

So  it  went  all  day  long.  A  hawk  could  not  appear  in 
sight,  a  crow  come  nearer  than  two  hundred  yards,  or  even 
a  blue  jay  come  closer  than  two  or  three  hundred  feet  with- 
out being  attacked  at  sight.  For  the  six  or  seven  years 
Jerry  nested  in  this  tree  we  never  had  a  chicken  caught  by 
a  hawk  or  a  crow,  and  the  cats  entirely  forsook  the  back 
yard  in  the  daytime. 

One  year  another  kingbird  determined  to  nest  in  our 
orchard.  He  located  fully  a  hundred  yards  from  Jerry's 
home,  but  nevertheless  Jerry  claimed  this  territory  as 
his  own.  The  two  birds  were  fighting  almost  constantly 
for  a  week.  Finally  Jerry  triumphed,  and  his  defeated 
rival  went  to  the  monstrous  Pippin  tree  in  the  old  or- 
chard, a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Probably  he  was  glad 
afterward  that  he  moved  for  he  found  himself  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  the  migrant  shrike's  nest  and  the  shrike 
was  following  his  custom  of  sticking  insects  on  thorns.  The 
kingbird  was  not  long  in  finding  this  out,  and  it  was  a 
favorite  pastime  of  his  to  collect  every  insect  he  found 
sticking  on  the  thorns. 

Tho  Jerry  would  never  tolerate  another  kingbird's  nest- 
ing in  what  he  considered  his  own  private  ground,  no  bird 
was  more  careful  in  the  protection  of  his  mate  and  of 
his  young.  He  left  his  lookout  during  the  period  in 
which  his  mate  was  sitting  only  when  he  felt  it  necessary 
to  satisfy  his  own  hunger  or  to  catch  food  for  her,  but  he 
always  managed  to  see  that  she  was  well  fed  tho  at  this 
time  they  dined  pretty  freely  on  bees.  In  fact,  that  waslhe 
only  time  we  had  reason  to  complain  of  his  onslaught  upon 
the  bee  yard,  and  with  nearly  a  hundred  colonies  of  bees, 


JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD  205 

each  one  of  which  was  hatching  from  3,000  to  5,000  young 
bees  every  day,  the  few  it  took  to  keep  him  and  his  wife 
well  fed  amounted  to  little,  especially  as  most  of  them 
were  drones. 

Two  broods  were  hatched  this  first  season.  The  young 
were  given  a  two  weeks'  course  of  education  as  soon  as 
they  were  able  to  fly.  They  would  sit  close  to  the  parent 
birds,  first  in  one  tree  and  then  in  another,  watching  for 
some  insect  to  pass  by.  For  perhaps  a  week  the  old  birds 
caught  the  insects  and  fed  them  to  the  young.  One  day 
the  latter  part  of  the  week,  one  of  the  bravest  of  the 
young  birds  made  a  dart  for  a  butterfly  on  his  own  ac- 
count. When  he  had  succeeded  in  catching  it  he  carried 
it  back  to  the  tree  on  which  the  family  rested  with  as  much 
show  of  pride  as  ever  a  boy  felt  when  he  brought  home 
the  first  dollar  he  earned.  Soon  one  of  his  brothers,  not 
to  be  outdone,  made  a  dart  for  an  insect  and  within  a  day 
or  two  all  of  the  fledglings  were  hunting  on  their  own 
account.  Then  they  moved  down  into  the  plum  orchard 
where  there  were  grasshoppers  as  well  as  other  insects  in 
abundance.  Now,  the  mother  began  to  lay  a  second  clutch 
of  eggs,  and  Jerry  resumed  his  place  as  watchman.  By 
the  middle  of  August  Jerry  and  his  mate  forsook  the  Eed 
June  tree  and  were  to  be  seen  flying  across  the  meadow 
back  and  forth,  darting  up  and  down,  often  swooping  to  a 
head  of  clover  or  a  goldenrod  and  rising  again  without 
alighting.  There  was  a  haystack  on  one  side  of  the 
meadow,  and  a  cornfield  on  the  other.  Jerry  would  often 
perch  himself  either  on  a  tassel  of  corn  or  on  a  stake  in  the 
haystack,  and  watch  for  hours,  making  a  dart  after  a 
grasshopper  here  or  a  fly  there,  each  time  returning  to  the 
same  spot.  In  fact,  this  habit  of  sitting  in  a  definite 


206     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

place  watching  for  food  and  always  returning  to  the  same 
spot  when  it  is  caught  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
flycatcher  family. 

Before  the  first  of  September  the  old  birds,  with  both  lots 
of  young,  gathered  in  a  plum  tree  one  morning,  and  as  soon 
as  they  had  satisfied  their  appetites  disappeared  for  the 
year.  The  kingbird  flies  rapidly  when  he  is  about  his 
summer's  business;  but  when  he  starts  southward  his 
flight  is  decidedly  different.  He  flaps  his  wings  three  or 
four  times  and  then  sails  twenty  or  thirty  feet  before 
flapping  again.  In  this  way  he  rests  fully  as  much  as 
he  works  and  so  is  able  to  continue  his  flight  for  hours. 
He  flies  mostly  at  night  and  often  stops  for  a  few  days 
at  any  place  that  happens  to  suit  his  fancy. 

Early  the  next  May  Jerry  returned  with  his  mate.  For 
a  day  or  two  after  returning  they  seemed  tired,  but  when 
they  had  had  a  day  or  two  of  rest  the  old  fire  and  vigor 
returned. 

We  had  a  watering  trough  for  horses  near  the  June  ap- 
ple tree,  and  on  hot  days  it  was  interesting  to  watch  Jerry 
take  his  bath.  This  was  the  trough  in  which  the  Balti- 
more orioles  bathed.  Jerry  did  not  bathe  like  other  birds, 
but  perching  on  a  maple  limb  that  hung  over  the  trough  he 
would  dive  down  into  the  water,  going  completely  under, 
always  alighting  and  shaking  himself  dry  before  taking 
another  dip.  Often  he  would  keep  this  up  for  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  if  the  day  was  a  hot  one,  making  thirty  or 
forty  plunges  before  he  was  satisfied. 

None  of  the  flycatchers  have  crops.  Their  food  is  swal- 
lowed directly  into  the  stomach.  Since  they  feed  largely 
on  insects  and  as  the  shells  of  these  insects  are  not  di- 
gestible, the  stomach  works  them  up  into  little  balk 


JERRY  THE  KINGBIRD  207 

which  are  disgorged  from  time  to  time;  so  it  was  common 
to  find  little  pellets  of  undigested  feet,  legs,  wings,  etc., 
about  the  size  of  a  common  quinine  capsule  under  our 
JRed  June  apple  tree. 

One  spring  after  Jerry  had  been  nesting  in  that  tree 
for  years  I  put  up  a  martin  box  on  the  other  side  of  the 
yard.  I  had  wanted  martins  for  two  or  three  years,  but 
had  never  made  them  a  box.  Within  four  or  five  days 
a  pair  of  martins  took  possession,  and  then  trouble  began 
in  earnest.  Jerry  resented  the  intrusion  and  was  not  wise 
enough  to  keep  his  resentment  to  himself.  Doubtless  the 
martins  would  not  have  raised  any  question  of  owner- 
ship; but  when  war  was  declared,  they  entered  it  with 
full  vigor.  The  campaign  lasted  for  five  or  six  days, 
with  fighting  almost  constant.  The  martin  is  the  one 
bird  that  is  more  active  than  the  kingbird,  and  poor  Jerry 
came  out  second  best  in  every  encounter.  The  old  spotted 
cat  had  always  resented  Jerry's  tyranny,  and  now  she  sat  in 
the  front  yard  watching  the  combat.  After  an  unusually 
hard  fought  battle  Jerry  fell  to  the  ground,  possibly  in- 
jured— I  never  knew.  In  a  flash  the  old  cat  was  upon  him, 
and  from  the  way  she  carried  herself  it  was  evident  that 
she  felt  more  than  the  usual  exultation  on  catching  a 
bird,  for  she  had  not  only  caught  her  breakfast  but  had 
gotten  rid  of  an  old  time  enemy.  Before  night  Jerry's  mate 
left  the  neighborhood.  I  had  grown  very  fond  of  Jerry, 
and  promptly  removed  the  martin  house,  hoping  the  mother 
bird  would  find  another  mate  and  return,  but  she  never 
came  back. 


XXIX 

SAM  BLACK 

IN"  THE  grove  that  had  been  set  aside  for  a  family  play- 
ground was  a  crabapple  thicket  around  the  edge  of 
which  grew  a  tangle  of  blackberries  and  ferns.  In  front 
of  this  crabapple  thicket  was  a  bed  of  giant  ferns  in  which 
tradition  said  there  was  a  snakes'  den.  Just  beyond  the 
ferns  a  little  brook  danced  and  sparkled.  On  the  oppo- 
site bank  of  this  brook  was  a  wonderful  wild  grapevine 
that  had  so  completely  covered  two  young  elm  trees  that  it 
formed  a  rain  proof  roof.  On  one  side  this  vine  hung  in  a 
loop  making  a  perfect  swing.  A  few  feet  away,  another 
vine  had  started  to  twine  about  an  old  tree  trunk  and  then 
thinking  better  of  it  had  bent  down  again  and  climbed  up 
an  elm  tree  a  few  feet  away,  and  this  bend  made  one  of 
the  finest  steeds  a  boy  ever  rode.  On  the  other  side  of 
this  grapevine  house  stood  a  young  tree  that  could  be  bent 
over  to  make  the  best  see-saw  in  the  world,  and  it  promptly 
straightened  up  again  as  soon  as  it  had  served  its  pur- 
pose, and  never  once  told  what  had  been  done. 

This  grapevine  was  a  regular  bearer  of  delicious  grapes, 
and  as  it  formed  a  rain-proof  house  it  is  no  wonder  that 
sister  and  I  chose  it  as  our  favorite  playground.  But  we 
never  dared  venture  into  the  fernery,  for  was  not  this  the 
special  domain  of  the  bull  snakes  that  had  their  den  there  ? 
True,  we  never  saw  any  of  these  snakes;  but  surely  they 

208 


SAM  BLACK  209 

must  be  there,  for  Dan  Scott  had  told  us  so  and  Dan 
Scott  was  authority  on  all  the  ghosts,  goblins  and  stinging 
things  in  the  country. 

Old  Jim  Crow,  whose  sharp  eye  saw  all  that  went  on  in 
the  woods,  evidently  had  observed  that  tho  we  children 
ran  at  large  in  this  grove  at  all  hours  of  the  day  we 
avoided  the  crabapple  thicket.  When  the  first  warm  sun 
began  to  melt  the  snow  he  began  to  call  from  every  tree  top 
for  a  mate  to  come  and  live  with  him  in  our  crabapple 
thicket.  Before  the  first  young  fox  squirrels  were  nibbling 
the  seeds  in  the  white  elms,  he  had  won  a  dusky  bride  and 
they  had  taken  possession  of  the  crabapple  thicket. 

From  our  grapevine  playhouse  sister  and  I  watched 
them  with  considerable  interest.  Back  and  forth  they 
went,  each  trip  bringing  a  stick  for  their  nest.  The  crow 
carries  large  sticks,  so  it  was  not  uncommon  for  them  to 
bring  sticks  twelve  or  fifteen  inches  long  and  as  thick  as 
my  finger.  We  could  see  the  nest  growing  from  day  to 
day.  but  we  never  dared  to  venture  close  enough  to  see 
the  details  of  the  nest  building.  For  three  days  this  work 
went  forward  rapidly.  The  fourth  day  we  observed  that 
they  were  carying  not  sticks  any  more  but  pieces  of  string 
or  some  other  lining  material.  When  the  nest  was  fin- 
ished it  was  fifteen  or  eighteen  inches  in  diameter  and  was 
securely  wedged  in  a  crotch  of  crabapple  branches  where 
the  top  was  thickest.  It  was  not  more  than  ten  feet  from 
the  ground  but  the  limbs  were  so  thick  beneath,  above,  and 
on  all  sides  that  had  we  not  known  where  it  was  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  we  could  have  found  it.  By  this  time  the  warm 
breezes  had  started  the  leaves,  the  tree  had  burst  into  a 
blaze  of  pink  blossoms,  and  these  blossoms  and  half  formed 
leaves  hid  the  nest. 


210     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

When  the  nest  was  completed,  Jim  chose  the  top  of  the 
tall  quaking  aspen  tree  hard  by  for  his  watch-tower.  There 
he  spent  hours  scanning  the  surrounding  country  and  not 
a  twig  could  snap  or  an  unusual  move  be  made  that  his 
quick  ear  or  eye  did  not  catch  it.  He  paid  no  attention 
to  us  children,  but  let  any  stranger  come  near  and  he  im- 
mediately uttered  a  sharp  "Caw,  caw/'  and  his  dusky  mate 
would  quietly  slip  off  the  nest,  and  keeping  herself  well 
hidden  among  the  branches,  noiselessly  fly  out  through  the 
willows  near  by  and  would  not  appear  silhouetted  against 
the  sky  until  she  was  at  least  one  hundred  yards  from  the 
precious  nest.  When  Jim  was  sure  his  mate  was  well  out 
of  harm's  way  he  also  took  flight  but  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. 

In  due  time  there  were  young  birds  in  this  nest.  We 
knew  this  far  we  could  see  the  parents  carrying  food  and 
soon  could  hear  cries  every  time  the  parent  birds  came 
near.  The  mother  now  spent  most  of  her  time  flying  over 
the  meadows  and  fields  in  search  of  grasshoppers  and  other 
food.  Jim,  being  more  cunning,  divided  his  time  between 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  slip  into  the  hen  house  and  steal 
an  egg  and  watching  for  a  little  duck  or  chicken  to  wander 
far  enough  from  the  yard  for  him  to  catch  it  without  at- 
tracting the  attention  of  Jerry  the  kingbird.  Mother 
complained  of  the  loss  of  her  eggs  and  poultry,  and  father 
threatened  from  time  to  time  to  shoot  Jim,  but  I  was  in- 
sistent that  I  wanted  a  pet  crow,  and  this  plea,  added  to 
the  law  that  nothing  should  be  killed  within  this  grove, 
caused  my  indulgent  parents  to  put  up  with  the  pilfering 
until  the  young  birds  were  old  enough  to  be  taken  away. 

Then  it  was  time  to  get  our  pets.  Brother  John  pro- 
prosed  that  we  slip  down  to  the  nest  just  at  dark,  shoot 


SAM  BLACK  211 

the  old  crows  and  get  the  young  ones.  We  laid  plans  to  do 
this  but  at  the  last  moment  mother  persuaded  us  it  would 
be  a  mean  trick  to  kill  the  old  birds  and  take  their  young, 
so  we  had  to  be  content  with  getting  the  young  and  de- 
stroying the  nest.  Perhaps  it  is  hardly  just  to  say  we,  for 
I  stayed  outside  of  the  thicket  while  Brother  John,  who 
had  reached  the  great  age  of  twelve  and  of  course  was  not 
afraid  of  anything,  got  the  birds.  There  were  five  of  them. 
We  took  them  all  to  the  house  and  killed  one  and  hung  it 
on  a  pole  some  distance  from  the  chicken  yard  as  an 'ef- 
fective preventative  of  Jim's  ravages  in  that  vicinity. 

Two  of  the  young  birds  were  given  to  a  neighbor  boy, 
and  I  started  in  on  the  rather  doubtful  job  of  feeding  and 
caring  for  the  remaining  two.  I  fed  them  on  bread  soaked 
in  milk,  pieces  of  meat,  cooked  beans,  Dutch  cheese,  mice, 
and  insects  of  all  kinds ;  in  fact,  whatever  seemed  to  be  con- 
venient. 

It  is  no  trouble  to  teach  a  young  crow  to  eat.  Indeed, 
eating  seems  to  be  his  one  interest  in  life.  After  the  first 
day  I  could  not  come  in  sight  without  both  crows  setting 
up  an  insistent  plea  to  be  fed.  To  nourish  a  young  crow 
so  that  he  will  gain  strength  as  fast  as  under  his  mother's 
care  is  quite  difficult.  Milk  was  hard  to  get,  and  it  was 
easier  to  stuff  the  crows  with  white  bread  soaked  in  water 
than  to  provide  them  plenty  of  insects  and  milk  or  curd. 
While  for  two  or  three  days  these  birds  thrived  amazingly 
they  soon  began  to  droop  and  have  a  rough  bedraggled 
looking  coat.  I  stuffed  them  full  of  white  bread  and  water 
every  little  while,  but  they  were  never  satisfied.  They 
would  utter  the  most  mournful  little  cry  every  little  while 
and  acted  as  if  they  were  starving — which  in  fact  they 
were,  starving  while  being  fed  to  the  limit.  Finally  the 


212     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

lining  of  their  mouths  became  a  pale  sickly  white  and  one 
died. 

Clearly  something  must  be  done.  I  made  excursions  to 
the  meadow  and  fed  the  remaining  bird  three  or  four 
meals  of  grasshoppers  which  relieved  the  situation  very 
much.  The  young  turkeys  by  this  time  had  grown  large 
enough  to  require  an  abundance  of  Dutch  cheese,  which 
mother  began  to  keep  on  hand  at  all  times.  It  was  just  as 
handy  to  feed  this  to  the  crow  as  bread,  and  it  became  the 
staple  article  of  diet.  Within  two  days  the  crow's  mouth 
came  back  to  a  brilliant  red,  his  coat  soon  took  on  gloss, 
and  before  the  week  was  out  he  was  able  to  fly.  He  es- 
caped death  by  the  fortunate  circumstance  of  mother's 
turkeys  requiring  an  abundance  of  freshly  made  Dutch 
cheese.  And  just  here  I  will  say  that  if  you  should  wish 
to  raise  young  birds  as  pets,  there  is  no  food  that  I  have 
found  so  generally  satisfactory  as  plenty  of  Dutch  cheese, 
freshly  made  from  milk  that  has  not  been  skimmed  closely. 
Of  course  it  is  not  well  to  give  this  as  the  only  food. 

When  Sam  learned  to  fly  he  soon  became  a  nuisance — he 
was  so  curious.  He  was  always  following  some  of  the 
family  about,  paying  attention  to  everything  that  was 
going  on.  He  appeared  as  innocent  as  a  baby,  but  let 
some  one  lay  down  anything  small  enough  for  him  to 
carry  and  then  step  away  for  a  moment  and  it  was  sure  to 
be  gone  when  he  returned.  Sam  made  a  specialty  of  carry- 
ing off  spools  of  thread,  scissors,  pocket  knives,  nails,  bolts, 
screws,  etc.,  and  then  watching  to  see  what  would  be  done 
when  the  loss  was  discovered.  He  was  sure  to  be  busy 
jabbering  to  himself  in  a  low  tone  when  we  were  busiest 
searching  for  the  lost  article.  This  went  on  for  some  time 
before  we  discovered  where  the  things  were  going.  We 


SAM  BLACK  213 

ought  to  have  known,  for  Sam  came  on  the  stage  of  action 
after  the  death  of  Joe  the  blue  jay,  and  those  of  you  who 
have  read  his  history  in  Elo  the  Eagle  and  Other  Stories 
will  remember  his  treasure  trove  and  his  proneness  to  steal 
everything  bright  and  pretty.  But  there  was  this  difference 
between  them:  Joe  either  carried  his  treasures  to  his 
cache  on  the  roof  or  dropped  them  in  the  rain-barrel,  while 
Sam  dropped  his  anywhere,  even  burying  them  at  times. 
He  did  not  seem  to  place  value  on  the  things  he  stole,  but 
took  them  merely  for  fun. 

As  he  became  more  expert  in  flying,  He  extended  his 
explorations  away  from  home.  But  some  wise  spirit  taught 
him  that  no  matter  how  friendly  the  home  folks  might  be 
to  a  pet  crow,  strangers  were  not  to  be  trusted,  especially 
on  their  own  premises.  Consequently  he  never  took  great 
liberties  there.  Nevertheless  it  was  common  for  him  to 
come  flying  home  with  something  that  belonged  to  one  of 
the  neighbors,  but  fortunately  he  never  brought  anything 
of  value. 

Toward  fall,  when  there  was  an  abundance  of  large,  fat 
grasshoppers  in  the  meadow,  Sam  spent  considerable  time 
hunting  there.  It  is  surprizing  how  many  grasshoppers  a 
crow  will  eat  in  a  day,  and  grasshoppers  were  not  the  only 
things  he  caught  in  the  meadow.  One  day  he  came  home 
very  proud  of  himself  and  exhibiting  a  field  mouse  that 
was  still  kicking.  Give  it  up  ?  Not  he !  But  he  did  like 
to  show  what  a  hunter  he  was.  After  that  he  managed  to 
catch  field  mice  almost  every  day.  This  gave  him  a  new 
lease  of  life,  when  the  patience  of  the  family  was  about 
worn  out  with  his  roguish  ways,  for  anything  that  catches 
mice  is  valuable  to  a  farmer. 

When  corn  husking  time  came,  Sam  delighted  to  follow 


214     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  corn  buskers,  picking  up  shelled  corn  and  hunting  for 
the  worms  that  are  occasionally  found  in  the  end  of  the 
ear.  Most  of  these  worms  had  already  gone  into  the 
ground,  but  it  was  surprizing  how  many  Sam  would  find 
by  tearing  the  husk  open  far  enough  to  see  the  end  of  the 
ear. 

When  fall  plowing  began  he  delighted  to  stalk  about  over 
the  plowed  fields,  picking  up  beetles,  worms,  and  grubs  of 
all  kinds. 

When  winter  came  Sam  did  not  have  to  hustle  for  food 
as  his  wild  kinsmen  do,  but  nevertheless  he  enjoyed  a 
rabbit  hunt  now  and  then.  Flying  close  to  the  ground  he 
would  locate  a  rabbit  sleeping  in  a  tuft  of  grass  or  at  the 
root  of  a  corn  stalk.  Like  a  flash  he  would  pounce  on  poor 
bunny,  probably  striking  him  before  he  was  aware  of  Sam's 
presence.  Away  bunny  would  dash  at  full  speed.  Sam 
would  pursue  and  flying  faster  than  the  rabbit  could  run 
every  now  and  then  would  strike  him  so  that  in  due  time 
the  rabbit  became  easy  prey.  Almost  always  the  crow 
would  draw  blood  the  first  time  he  struck  the  rabbit  so 
by  the  crimson  stains  on  the  snow  I  could  easily  track  the 
rabbit  as  he  had  run  frantically  here  and  there.  Sam 
would  finally  strike  a  fatal  blow  either  in  the  eye  or  in 
the  back  of  the  head.  A  wild  crow  would  have  eaten  his 
prey  entire  but  Sam  usually  contented  himself  with  eating 
the  eyes  and  possibly  a  few  bites  of  the  flesh,  leaving  the 
carcass  for  some  brother  who  might  happen  by,  or  for  the 
turkey  buzzard  that  was  always  sailing  somewhere  in  the 
heavens  on  the  lookout  for  just  such  a  thing  as  this. 

In  the  breeding  season  crows  nest  by  themselves ;  but  in 
the  fall  the  longing  for  companionship  and  gossip  is  sure 
to  return,  and  roosts  are  established  where  the  crows  for 


SAM  BLACK  215 

miles  gather  every  night  to  roost.  These  roosts  are  often 
pieces  of  thick  timber  that  cover  a  hundred  or  more  acres. 
Trees  that  do  not  shed  their  leaves  until  spring  are  pre- 
ferred for  this  purpose.  I  have  visited  one  such  roost  and 
it  was  not  unusual  to  see  scores  of  crows  in  a  single  tree 
while  it  was  an  exception  to  find  a  tree  in  which  they  were 
not  roosting.  They  continued  to  arrive  till  late  at  night, 
sometimes  flying  miles  to  reach  this  place.  With  the  first 
break  of  dawn  they  begin  to  scatter  to  the  fields  to  feed, 
usually  going  back  to  the  neighborhood  where  they  had 
been  reared. 

Sam  began  to  grow  uneasy  as  the  winter  wore  on,  and 
would  frequently  fly  a  mile  or  two  with  a  flock  of  crows 
that  were  on  the  way  to  a  roost  in  East  Central  Iowa. 
But  strong  as  was  the  desire  to  know  what  was  going  on  in 
the  roost  and  to  have  a  part  in  the  council  of  the  race  he 
reluctantly  came  back  to  spend  the  night  in  the  old  willow 
tree  in  the  yard.  After  a  few  days  of  this  uneasiness,  we 
came  to  feel  there  was  no  danger  of  his  leaving,  but  one 
night  early  in  February  he  failed  to  come  home.  Next 
morning  he  was  on  hand.,  however,  begging  for  his  break- 
fast. This  went  on  for  a  few  days,  when  he  began  to  bring 
other  birds  home  with  him.  They  did  not  come  to  the 
house  to  beg  for  food,  but  they  helped  themselves  from 
the  corn  crib  and  the  chicken  house.  It  was  soon  evident 
that  this  could  not  be  tolerated;  we  could  not  feed  every 
stray  crow  that  Sam  took  it  into  his  head  to  invite  home 
for  breakfast. 

There  was  one  crow,  doubtless  a  female,  which  was 
clearly  a  favorite  with  Sam.  Shall  I  say  she  was  his  sweet- 
heart? At  any  rate  they  often  sat  near  each  other  in  the 
orchard  and  jabbered  in  crow  fashion,  she  each  day  grow- 


216     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

ing  bolder  and  more  free  to  help  herself  to  the  good  things 
the  place  offered.  One  evening  Brother  John  cleaned  his 
target  rifle  and  said  he  was  going  to  shoot  the  first  crow 
that  came  near.  Next  morning  Sam  came  begging  for  his 
breakfast,  and  his  lady  love  began  strutting  about  in  the 
yard  picking  up  crumbs  and  crusts  from  the  garbage  pail. 
When  John  stepped  out  of  the  house,  she  flew  to  the  top 
of  a  tall  tree  a  hundred  yards  away.  He  shot,  and  as  luck 
would  have  it,  killed  her.  Her  carcass  was  hung  on  a  pole 
near  the  hen  house  and  this  effectively  put  an  end  to 
callers.  For  a  few  days  Sam  was  disconsolate.  Then  he 
did  his  best  to  persuade  himself  and  his  new  friends  that 
it  was  an  accident ;  but  they  merely  sat  in  the  old  orchard 
forty  rods  away  and  watched  while  he  came  for  his  break- 
fast. Some  people  say  a  crow  mates  for  life.  I  do  not 
know.  Sam's  first  love  gone,  he  did  not  select  another  that 
season,  but  spent  his  time  gaining  wisdom.  He  flew  far 
and  wide.  Was  he  gathering  news  for  the  crow's  con- 
clave when  it  met  in  the  old  dead  tree  in  Gregory's 
pasture  ?  He  had  an  unusually  keen  eye  and  sharp  wit  even 
for  a  crow.  His  experience  as  a  pet  had  taught  him  so 
much  of  human  ways  that  his  wisdom  was  almost  uncanny. 
Tho  he  usually  came  home  at  least  once  every  day  or  two 
for  food,  he  soon  became  the  local  guardian  and  leader 
of  this  race.  When  an  owl,  a  hawk,  or  any  other  enemy 
came  into  the  neighborhood  it  was  usually  Sam  who  dis- 
covered the  intruder  and  gave  the  help  call,  a  shrill  pro- 
longed "Ca-a-a-ah,  ca,  ca."  Soon  crows  would  come  from 
all  directions  to  help  drive  away  the  intruder. 

Farmers  seldom  love  crows.  Crows  like  to  feed  their 
young  sprouted  corn  and  to  secure  it  they  pull  up  the 
farmer!s  corn.  No  wonder  every  boy  in  the  neighborhood 


SAM  BLACK  217 

was  ever  on  the  alert  to  shoot  a  crow.  Not  only  could 
he  do  so  without  censure,  but  he  must  match  wits 
with  a  creature  so  cunning  that  it  is  a  real  triumph  to 
kill  one. 

Often  I  have  tried  to  slip  up  on  a  flock  of  Sam's  lieu- 
tenants when  they  were  heckling  an  owl  or  a  hawk.  Like  a 
true  leader,  when  Sam  got  his  crowd  together,  he  left  the 
work  of  driving  away  the  intruder  to  them,  while  he  kept 
a  sharp  lookout  for  their  safety.  He  had  totally  ignored 
guns  until  Brother  John  shot  his  friend,  hut  ever  after- 
ward he  feared  even  us  if  we  had  a  gun  and  were  outside 
of  the  yard.  I  could  never  get  within  gunshot  of  Sam  and 
his  flock  without  his  knowledge.  No  matter  how  busy 
they  were,  one  sharp  "Caw,  caw,  caw"  from  Sam  and  they 
left  their  victim  and  scattered  instantly. 

Sam  was  the  recognized  leader  of  the  flock,  and  tho 
young  for  such  a  responsibility,  it  was  he  who  called  their 
council,  heard  the  reports,  and  then  perched  silent  on  the 
tallest  limb  and  meditated.  When  calling  his  counsellors, 
his  call  was  distinctive.  He  would  perch  on  the  top  of 
a  tree  and  call  "Caw,  caw,  caw,"  wagging  his  whole  body 
with  every  "caw,"  then  wait  a  few  moments  and  repeat 
his  call.  Soon  the  crows  would  begin  to  arrive,  but  not 
nearly  so  rapidly  as  when  they  heard  the  "help"  call.  Soon 
all  were  together  and  the  deliberations  would  begin.  Some- 
times they  were  noisy,  more  often  they  were  dignified  and 
orderly.  No  matter,  Sam  always  occupied  the  highest 
perch;  and  remained  till  his  flock  scattered. 

In  the  spring  Sam  selected  a  mate  which  refused  to  nest 
near  home.  Soon  he  ceased  coming  home  at  all.  Possibly 
he  became  too  familiar  with  some  of  the  neighbors'  things 
and  was  killed.  More  likely,  as  I  could  no  longer  recog- 


218     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

nize  him,  he  became  just  a  crow  and  lived  in  the  vicinity 
for  years. 

Of  course  we  missed  Sam,  but  he  was  never  the  jolly 
companion  that  Joe  the  blue  jay  had  been,  and  I  have  never 
cared  for  another  crow.  Doubtless  they  are  interesting 
and  it  may  be  that  I  am  somewhat  prejudiced  against 
them;  but  they  are  not  so  clean  as  most  birds,  and  for 
this  reason  I  do  not  like  to  have  them  around. 

Occasionally  pet  crows  learn  to  talk.  I  have  known  two 
that  were  as  good  talkers  as  a  parrot.  Such  crows  are 
taken  from  the  nest  when  quite  young  and  reared  where 
they  do  not  become  familiar  with  crow  language.  Any 
bird  attempts  to  imitate  the  sound  with  which  he  is  most 
familiar,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  exact  to  say  the 
language  of  those  he  regards  as  his  own  people.  No  bird 
whose  training  does  not  begin  young  makes  a  first  class 
talker.  Even  parrots  must  either  be  taken  from  the  nest 
when  very  young,  or  taken  where  they  will  not  hear  others 
of  their  race  before  they  are  a  year  old  if  they  are  ever  to 
become  really  good  talkers. 

Pet  birds  seldom  mate  with  wildlings.  Whether  this  is 
because  they  feel  themselves  superior  or  whether  the  wild- 
lings  consider  them  outcasts  I  do  not  know.  That  several 
of  my  pet  birds  finally  mated  and  settled  down  to  normal 
family  life  pleased  me,  for  it  led  me  to  believe  I  was  seeing 
them  under  normal  conditions,  which  is,  after  all,  the  only 
way  to  become  really  acquainted  with  anything. 


XXX 

THE  BOBOLINK 

ONE  afternoon  in  the  late  spring  one  of  my  brothers 
brought  me  a  black  bird  with  white  on  the  back 
and  shoulder  and  a  whitish  bordered  buff  spot  on  the 
back  of  the  neck.  In  size  he  was  smaller  than  either 
the  red-winged  blackbird  or  the  robin,  tho  he  was  cer- 
tainly more  nearly  the  size  of  the  red-winged  black-bird 
than  of  the  robin.  I  had  never  seen  a  bird  like  him 
before  and  did  not  know  what  he  was.  Strange  to  say, 
for  once  neither  father  nor  mother  knew  this  bird's  name. 
,They  both  said  that  he  was  a  white-winged  blackbird,  and 
that  he  lived  along  the  roadsides  or  more  commonly  along 
the  creeks  and  that  he  was  scarce  in  our  part  of  the 
country.  They  said  he  was  one  of  the  best  song  birds  we 
have. 

The  poor  fellow  had  had  his  leg  broken  and  his  wing 
hurt  in  some  way  or  other.  Possibly  some  boy  in  the 
neighborhood  with  a  shotgun  could  have  explained  how 
this  happened.  I  got  out  my  largest  bird  cage,  the  one 
I  always  used  in  taming  my  pet  birds,  and  determined  to 
do  my  best  to  nurse  this  bird  back  to  health  again.  Father 
whittled  out  a  splint  and  helped  bind  up  the  broken  leg 
and  the  injured  wing,  while  mother  supplied  her  best 
mutton  tallow  and  balm  of  Gilead  salve  to  anoint  the 
wounds. 

219 


220     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

This  bird  never  acted  as  if  much  afraid,  and  made  no 
vain  struggles  to  escape.  In  fact,  from  the  very  first  he 
would  both  eat  and  drink,  tho  he  resented  being  handled 
and  would  peck  and  fight  with  all  of  his  strength  if  we 
attempted  to  lay  hands  on  him.  Seemingly  aware  that  he 
was  being  helped  while  we  were  dressing  his  wounds,  how- 
ever, he  was  usually  quiet.  He  had  a  stout  bill  and  could 
pinch  hard  with  it.  I  have  had  him  pinch  hard  enough 
to  draw  blood  more  than  once. 

We  fed  him  a  variety  of  food.  Our  never  failing  Dutch 
cheese  was  the  staple  article,  but  to  it  we  added  such 
worms  and  bugs  as  we  could 'catch,  wheat,  the  seeds  of 
various  kinds,  bread,  and  even  fresh  apple.  He  improved 
rapidly  and  within  a  week  was  beginning  to  chirp,  and 
truly  he  had  a  very  musical  voice.  In  a  little  more  than  two 
weeks  he  was  able  to  fly  about  in  the  room,  tho  he  did  not 
use  his  broken  leg  perfectly  as  yet.  He  was  still  a  bit  shy, 
and  in  making  an  attempt  to  get  out  through  a  window 
which  he  evidently  mistook  for  an  opening  he  injured  his 
wing  slightly  again.  Immediately  I  put  him  back  in  the 
cage  where  he  stayed  another  week.  By  this  time  he  felt  at 
home  with  the  family.  His  leg  apparently  was  completely 
well;  at  any  rate  in  jumping  about  and  swinging  in  the 
cage  he  used  it  as  well  as  the  one  that  had  never  been 
hurt. 

Not  wishing  to  repeat  the  experience  of  having  him 
injure  himself  against  the  window  pane,  I  hung  the  cage 
out  in  a  tree  and  opened  the  door.  Presently  he  noticed 
this  open  door  and  hopped  over  and  sat  in  it  for  a  time 
looking  longingly  at  the  trees,  but  apparently  uncertain  as 
to  whether  it  was  wise  to  venture  to  fly.  Finally  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  make  the  attempt,  and  soon  was  hopping 


THE  BOBOLINK  221 

about  among  the  branches  as  happy  as  could  be.  But  for 
two  or  three  days  he  did  not  go  far  from  the  house.  Then 
he  began  singing  his  wonderful  rollicking  song,  whistling 
and  calling  for  hours  every  morning,  evidently  in  hopes 
that  he  might  find  a  mate.  It  was  not  until  he  was  turned 
loose  and  began  singing  that  we  recognized  him  as  a  bobo- 
link. Even  now  I  am  not  sure  whether  we  guessed  it  our- 
selves or  whether  some  one  told  us  his  identity. 

This  was  my  first  experience  with  a  bobolink.  I  never 
knew  whether  this  bird  found  a  mate.  At  any  rate  he  left 
us  within  four  or  five  days  after  he  became  able  to  fly 
and  never  returned.  We  frequently  heard  a  bobolink  sing- 
ing in  the  meadow,  the  grove,  and  the  orchard  near  by; 
but  as  I  never  found  its  nest,  I  was  never  sure  that  it 
was  my  liberated  friend. 

The  male  bobolinks  come  north  a  week  or  two  before 
the  females,  and  for  two  weeks  are  as  care-free  a  lot  of 
bachelors  as  one  would  care  to  see.  This  time  is  spent 
in  making  the  fields  and  meadows  ring  with  song.  When 
the  females  arrive  they  are  to  be  courted  and  won  before 
nest  building  can  begin,  and  as  my  bird  was  found  about 
the  time  the  first  birds  arrived  he  was  probably  healed  be- 
fore the  last  of  the  females  arrived. 

The  bobolink  should  be  given  a  place  among  our  half 
dozen  best  songsters.  He  has  a  wonderful  range  of 
notes  and  it  would  be  hard  to  improve  on  his  song. 
Beautifully  colored  as  he  is,  his  mate  is  a  dull,  sober- 
looking  brown  bird.  Nevertheless  he  is  always  proud  of 
her  and  does  his  utmost  to  entertain  her  with  song  dur- 
ing the  brooding  season.  He  feeds  on  a  variety  of  things, 
eating  caterpillars  and  insects  of  various  kinds  greedily 
in  the  summer  time.  He  seems  to  be  especially  fond  of 


222     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

army  worms,  those  caterpillars  that  form  in  numberless 
bands  and  march  through  our  fields  destroying  everything. 
When  the  babes  arrive,  however,  he  prefers  to  feed  them  on 
young  grasshoppers.  Those  who  have  watched  him  feed 
his  young,  patiently  noting  hour  after  hour  and  day  after 
day  what  he  feeds,  claim  he  has  a  great  preference  for 
green  grasshoppers — not  any  particular  kind  of  green 
grasshoppers,  but  just  green  ones — not  feeding  brown  ones 
once  out  of  a  dozen  times. 

After  the  mating  season  is  over  "Robert  of  Lincoln/* 
as  he  is  sometimes  called,  loses  his  fine  feathers  and  be- 
comes a  dull  brown  not  much  different  from  his  mate. 
Now  with  his  family  he  flies  away  to  the  Southland,  on 
his  way  to  South  America  to  winter.  On  the  way  he  is 
not  found  in  the  edge  of  meadows  or  by  the  roadsides 
swinging  on  a  thistle  and  singing  his  jolly,  rollicking  song. 
Instead  he  gathers  in  the  Carolina  rice  fields  in  enormous 
numbers,  feeding  on  rice  until  he  is  almost  too  fat  to  fly. 
Apparently  he  is  so  fond  of  rice  that  he  forgets  all  his 
good  manners  and  his  caution  as  well  and  does  not  even 
leave  the  field  to  roost.  Doubtless  this  over-fondness  for 
rice  is  responsible  in  two  ways  for  the  fact  that  large  num- 
bers are  destroyed  in  some  parts  of  the  country.  First,  it 
makes  him  so  fat  that  his  carcass  is  considered  a  very 
toothsome  delicacy;  and  second,  roosting  as  he  does  in 
enormous  numbers  in  the  rice  fields,  he  becomes  an  easy 
prey  to  the  men  who  are  hired  to  hunt  for  him. 

A  man  will  take  a  torch  or  a  brilliant  flashlight,  a  tow 
sack,  and  a  short  broad  paddle,  and  start  for  the  rice  field. 
Holding  the  sack  mouth  wide  open  under  one  arm  and 
carrying  the  torch  in  his  hand  he  moves  slowly  through  the 
rice  field.  The  light  blinds  poor  bobolink  and  at  the  same 


THE  BOBOLINK  223 

time  reveals  his  presence  to  the  hunter.  Robert  sits  be- 
wildered by  the  brilliant  light,  until  the  hunter  gets  close 
enough  to  strike  him  with  his  paddle  and  knock  him  off 
into  the  sack.  Scores  are  often  collected  in  this  way  in  a 
single  evening. 

Undoubtedly  bobolinks  become  numerous  enough  in  the 
rice  fields  to  be  actually  injurious,  and  doubtless  the  man 
who  feeds  these  birds  has  some  claim  on  them;  but  never- 
theless it  seems  too  bad  that  so  brilliant  and  jolly  a  song 
bird  should  be  sacrificed  by  tens  of  thousands  every  year 
for  no  higher  purpose  than  to  be  eaten.  Surely  if  God 
ever  made  anything  to  cheer  us  and  make  us  happy  it  was 
the  bobolink,  and  it  always  seems  to  show  a  lack  of  ap- 
preciation of  the  really  worth-while  things  in  nature  when 
people  deliberately  kill  song  birds  for  food.  It  must  be 
admitted,  however,  that  Eobert  never  sings  in  the  land 
where  he  feeds  on  rice  and  is  slaughtered.  This  makes  the 
case  of  his  enemies  appear  more  plausible,  for  many  of 
them  do  not  even  know  his  virtues  in  the  parts  where  he 
raises  his  young.  It  seems  remarkable  that  a  bird  should 
be  largely  an  insect  eater  in  his  northern  home  and  a  grain 
eater  on  his  migrations.  Perhaps  he  himself  is  ashamed 
of  it,  for  he  changes  his  coat  so  effectively  that  even  his 
best  friends  in  the  North  might  not  recognize  him  in  the 
rice  fields  of  the  South. 

In  the  Northeastern  part  of  the  United  States,  where 
the  bobolink  is  most  common,  he  sometimes  forgets  his 
good  manners  and  becomes  a  nuisance  as  soon  as  the  corn 
is  in  roasting  ear.  He  occasionally  gathers  in  the  fields 
by  hundreds,  and  creates  great  havoc  by  tearing  open  the 
ends  of  the  ears  and  eating  the  sweet  young  corn. 


XXXI 

THE  GRAFTER 

ALMOST  any  time  in  the  spring  and  summer  I  could 
look  out  over  the  cow  pasture  and  see  a  dozen  or  more 
dull-brownish  black  birds  (the  males  were  a  shiny  black) 
either  picking  around  on  the  ground  near  the  cows  or  sit- 
ting on  their  backs.  They  would  actually  sit  on  the  back 
of  a  cow  for  a  half  hour  at  a  time,  and  the  cow  seldom  paid 
any  attention  to  them,  or  if  she  did  she  seemed  rather  to 
encourage  this  friendliness.  These  birds  were  not  shy,  and 
when  I  would  go  to  drive  the  cows  into  the  lot  to  be  milked 
it  was  not  unusual  for  me  to  get  within  fifteen  or  twenty 
feet  of  them.  They  came  for  a  while  to  be  great  favorites, 
even  though  they  never  sang  and  were  not  pretty.  Their 
color  was  not  attractive  and  I  have  always  believed  a  bird 
should  sing;  but  nevertheless  I  liked  the  way  these  birds 
caught  the  flies  off  the  cows'  backs. 

There  is  a  certain  insect  that  lays  its  eggs  so  that  the 
cow  gets  them  in  her  mouth  and  swallows  them.  When 
these  hatch  and  the  little  grub  finds  its  way  into  the  cow's 
circulation,  and  finally  lodges  in  the  tissue,  just  under 
the  skin  along  both  sides  of  the  back ;  there  the  grub  grows 
and  feeds  until  spring.  By  that  time  they  are  almost  as 
large  as  the  grub  worms  we  often  find  in  old  straw  stacks 
or  in  the  ground  in  our  gardens.  They  eat  holes  through 

224 


THE  GRAFTER  225 

the  skin,  crawl  out  of  the  cow's  back,  and  drop  on  the 
ground  where  they  are  transformed  into  the  mature  insect. 

Father  taught  me  that  cowhirds  eat  these  grubs  when 
they  crawl  out  of  the  cows'  backs  and  so  are  a  protection 
to  the  cows.  I  am  inclined  to  doubt  this,  for  while  those 
birds  lived  with  our  cows  for  years,  every  spring  the  cows' 
backs  were  full  of  the  "warbles."  If  the  birds  had  been 
active  in  catching  the  grubs,  they  should  have  grown  less 
numerous  from  year  to  year. 

Finally  I  discovered  something  about  these  birds  that 
changed  me  from  their  friend  to  their  untiring  enemy, 
and  finally  I  exterminated  them  from  our  farm. 

Our  peach  orchard  was  a  favorite  nesting  place  for  yel- 
low warblers,  vireos,  and  other  small  birds.  One  spring 
a  red-eyed  vireo  nested  in  my  favorite  peach  tree.  This 
was  a  seedling  that  ripened  its  fruit  very  early  and  was 
of  exceptionally  good  quality.  That  spring  I  had  fallen 
into  the  habit  of  visiting  the  tree  every  two  or  three  days 
speculating  how  long  it  would  be  before  I  could  get  a 
ripe  peach.  One  day  I  discovered  a  vireo's  nest  there,  con- 
taining three  eggs. 

The  next  day  there  were  still  three  eggs  in  it,  but  they 
were  not  all  vireo  eggs.  One  was  much  larger,  and  there 
was  a  broken  vireo  egg  on  the  ground  underneath  the  nest. 
I  could  not  understand  that,  so  I  went  back  to  the  nest 
the  next  day  and  found  another  vireo  egg  in  it.  Then 
the  vireo  began  sitting.  Of  course  I  was  anxious  to  see 
whether  the  big  egg  would  hatch.  It  never  occurred  to 
me  that  it  was  not  a  vireo's  egg.  Sometimes  one  of  our 
hens  would  lay  an  unusually  large  egg  that  contained  two 
yolks.  Again  one  sometimes  laid  an  egg  not  much  larger 
than  a  pigeon's  egg,  so  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  this 


226     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

belonged  to  some  other  kind  of  bird.  But  I  was  puzzled 
about  tbe  difference  in  color.  However,  as  there  was  oc- 
casionally a  variation  in  the  color  of  the  eggs  of  a  chicken, 
I  thought  little  of  that.  I  had  set  a  number  of  these 
large  hen's  eggs  in  hopes  of  getting  a  double  chicken,  but 
none  of  them  had  ever  hatched.  Now  I  was  anxious  to 
know  whether  this  egg  would  hatch  a  double  bird. 

Well,  it  did  hatch  and  not  into  a  double  bird.  Three 
days  before  the  other  eggs  hatched  I  found  this  one  had 
hatched  a  lusty  little  bird  indeed.  The  vireos  began  feed- 
ing it,  but  it  was  never  satisfied.  By  the  time  the  other 
eggs  were  due  to  hatch,  it  had  broken  one  of  them,  which 
of  course  meant  that  the  bird  it  contained  was  killed.  I 
carefully  removed  this  dead  bird  with  two  sticks,  but  was 
still  ignorant  of  the  character  of  the  lusty  bird  that  had 
hatched  before  its  fellows. 

When  the  other  eggs  hatched  it  was  evident  even  to  me 
that  they  would  not  be  the  same  kind  of  birds  as  this 
stranger.  I  was  more  anxious  than  ever,  however,  to  find 
out  what  this  bird  would  prove  to  be  and  so  waited  and 
watched.  The  two  young  vireos  had  no  chance  for  their 
lives.  They  were  so  weak  that  their  lusty  mate  managed  to 
get  all  the  food  the  parents  brought  and  trampled  its  nest- 
mates  until  within  two  days  one  of  them  was  dead.  The 
other  evidently  received  little  food  for  it  grew  slowly  but 
never  seemed  anything  but  starved.  I  felt  sorry  for  it  and 
began  feeding  it  with  egg  yolk,  dutch  cheese,  and  small 
grasshoppers,  often  feeding  it  all  it  would  eat  two  or  three 
times  a  day.  It  then  began  to  thrive  and  I  verily  believe  I 
saved  its  life. 

The  young  stranger  was  beginning  to  get  feathers  and  to 
my  surprize  they  were  black.  It  never  seemed  satisfied  no 


THE  GRAFTER  227 

matter  how  much  it  was  fed,  so  I  sometimes  gave  it  por- 
tions when  I  fed  my  little  vireo.  In  a  few  more  days  it 
was  able  to  sit  on  the  side  of  the  nest  and  beg  for  food, 
meeting  the  vireos  before  they  could  get  to  their  own 
young  at  all.  Now  the  young  vireo  depended  entirely  on 
my  bounty;  but  the  mother  bird  had  become  so  accus- 
tomed to  me  that  she  did  not  resent  my  lending  a  hand. 
Two  days  later  this  bird  was  fully  fledged  and  ready  to 
fly.  Then  it  was  evident  what  it  was — one  of  these  brown- 
black  cowbirds.  Almost  as  soon  as  it  left  the  nest  it  was 
able  to  care  for  itself  and  it  soon  joined  the  birds  in  the 
pasture.  The  old  birds  welcomed  it",  but  I  have  often  won- 
dered what  it  must  have  thought  of  its  mother  when  it  saw 
her.  Surely  there  is  little  respect  or  affection  among  such 
birds.  After  that  the  vireos  turned  their  attention  to  their 
own  young,  and  it  was  surprizing  how  it  changed  in  ap- 
pearance and  grew. 

A  survey  of  the  birds'  nests  in  the  orchard  and  vineyard 
revealed  the  fact  that  these  were  not  the  only  birds  that 
had  raised  a  cowbird.  A  pair  of  yellow  warblers  raised 
one.  When  I  found  their  nest  it  was  the  only  bird  in  it.  I 
never  knew  what  became  of  their  own  young,  whether  the 
cowbird  threw  them  out  of  the  nest,  whether  they  were 
starved  to  death,  or  whether  possibly  they  never  hatched. 
At  any  rate  this  bird  was  the  only  youngster  that  grew 
to  maturity.  A  pair  of  song  sparrows  raised  a  third. 
Doubtless  one  or  two  other  cowbirds  were  raised  by  other 
small  birds  in  the  vicinity,  but  I  never  found  them.  Fur- 
ther watching  led  me  to  know  what  hundreds  of  people 
had  known  for  a  long  time,  that  cowbirds  never  nest. 
They  sneak  to  the  nests  of  the  smaller  birds  and  slyly  de- 
posit an  egg  in  each  nest  until  they  have  laid  several 


228     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

eggs.  They  throw  out  of  the  nest  on  occasions  one  of  the 
eggs  that  rightly  belong  there.  Sometimes  they  break 
and  throw  out  more  than  one. 

The  cowbird  is  very  sly  and  remains  on  a  nest  only  a 
few  moments.  She  often  lays  in  nests  that  are  so  email 
it  does  not  seem  possible  that  she  could  sit  on  them.  The 
cowbird  usually  hatches  two  or  three  days  before  the  other 
birds,  and  either  tramples  or  starves  the  rightful  chil- 
dren to  death.  The  cowbirds  do  very  little  good,  and  for 
every  one  of  them  that  is  hatched  at  least  three  valuable 
birds  are  destroyed.  That  was  the  reason  why  I  declared 
war  on  them  and  exterminated  them  from  our  pasture. 

If  a  cowbird  lays  an  egg  in  a  yellow  warbler's  nest,  as 
it  frequently  does,  these  wise  birds  often  refuse  to  act  as 
foster  parents.  They  construct  a  second  bottom  in  the  nest, 
burying  the  stranger's  egg,  sometimes  even  burying  their 
own,  and  then  lay  more  eggs  on  this  new  bottom  and  pro- 
ceed to  rear  their  own  family. 

The  cowbird  belongs  to  the  same  family  as  most  of 
our  other  blackbirds.  None  of  the  blackbirds  are  excep- 
tionally desirable  birds,  most  of  them  having  some  decid- 
edly bad  habit.  Among  the  most  desirable  are  the  red- 
winged  or  swamp  blackbirds,  which  we  see  in  large  flocks 
in  our  groves  and  fields  in  the  spring  and  fall.  The  red- 
winged  blackbirds  are  tolerably  respectable  citizens,  and 
if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  they  destroy  considerable 
grain,  few  would  object  to  them.  You  will  have  no  trouble 
in  recognizing  blackbirds,  for  of  course  they  are  black  or 
nearly  black,  and  all  of  them  are  moderately  small  birds. 
Few  other  birds  are  black  all  over  in  color  except  the  crows 
and  ravens,  and  they  are  much  too  large  to  be  mistaken 
for  blackbirds. 


XXXII 

THE  MEADOW  LARK 

ONE  day  when  I  was  about  ten  years  old  I  was  playing 
in  the  meadow  when  I  discovered  one  of  the  nicest 
little  tunnels  I  have  ever  seen.  It  was  an  oval  archway 
perhaps  five  inches  in  diameter,  leading  under  a  large 
tuft  of  grass.  I  explored  it  and  found  it  ran  back  at  least 
two  or  three  feet.  Of  course  I  was  all  interest  at  once 
because  aside  from  the  tunnels  of  the  bobtailed  meadow 
mice  and  the  ants  I  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind, 
and  I  knew  this  tunnel  was  far  too  large  for  such  small 
creatures  as  these. 

The  tunnel  made  a  turn,  and  I  was  not  able  to  see  where 
it  led  without  disturbing  it.  Knowing  that  there  must  be 
some  interesting  story  at  the  other  end,  possibly  some- 
thing that  would  need  watching  for  days,  I  did  not  want  to 
injure  it,  for  I  knew  that  if  I  did  the  little  creature  that 
made  it  might  forsake  it.  By  very  carefully  pushing  the 
grass  apart  on  the  other  side  I  was  finally  able  to  see  that 
after  running  for  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  in  a  straight 
line  the  tunnel  turned  abruptly  to  the  right  and  after 
running  fully  as  much  further  there  was  a  nest  and  in 
that  nest  were  five  spotted  eggs.  Surely  this  nest  belonged 
to  a  wise  bird,  for  nothing  flying  overhead  could  see  the 
little  mother  when  she  was  sitting,  and  the  babies  were 

229 


230     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

likely  to  be  safe  until  they  were  well  able  to  take  care 
of  themselves. 

The  mother  did  not  happen  to  be  at  home,  so  I  stationed 
myself  some  fifty  or  seventy-five  yards  away,  began  plait- 
ing chains  of  white  clover  blossoms,  and  awaited  her  re- 
turn. After  half  an  hour  or  so  I  noticed  a  meadow  lark 
flying  by,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  me  that  this  nest  be- 
longed to  her.  True,  I  had  never  seen  a  meadow  lark's 
nest,  but  I  had  known  larks  all  my  life,  and  she  acted  so 
naturally  that  it  was  not  suggested  to  me  that  this  bird 
was  trying  to  learn  whether  I  had  found  the  nest  and 
whether  it  was  safe  to  return.  She  alighted  in  the  grass 
near  by  and  seemed  to  busy  herself  looking  for  worms.  In 
five  or  ten  minutes  she  flew  by  again  and  alighted  on  the 
other  side.  Again  in  a  few  minutes  she  came  by,  each 
time  getting  nearer  the  nest. 

Presently  she  gained  a  little  more  courage,  alighted 
within  ten  or  fifteen  feet  of  the  nest,  and  began  pecking 
about  here  and  there  in  the  most  unconcerned  way  pos- 
sible. When  she  felt  sure  no  one  would  notice  it,  she 
ducked  her  head  as  low  as  she  could  and  made  directly 
for  the  tunnel  and  slipped  in  to  the  nest.  Then  the  secret 
was  out.  It  was  a  meadow  lark's  nest ;  the  first  I  had  seen 
and  for  that  matter  the  most  cleverly  hidden  of  any  nest 
I  had  known,  excepting  perhaps  that  of  the  humming  bird. 
Meadow  larks  always  build  their  nest  in  the  grass,  but 
they  do  not  always  take  the  trouble  to  conceal  it  as  this 
one  had  done.  In  fact,  it  is  seldom  that  I  have  found  a 
meadow  lark's  nest  hidden  away  in  a  tunnel  where  curious 
eyes  could  not  find  it. 

Lady  Lark  was  a  careful,  painstaking  housekeeper,  never 
allowing  the  least  bit  of  trash  or  dirt  anywhere  about 


THE  MEADOW  LARK  231 

her  nest.  If  any  debris  was  left  about  my  lark's  nest, 
the  old  bird  managed  to  carry  it  away.  She  even  carried 
away  pieces  of  paper  I  left  to  mark  the  nest,  probably 
fearing  that  they  would  attract  attention  to  the  place. 

Many  birds  that  build  their  nests  on  the  ground  lead  the 
young  away  from  the  nest  almost  as  soon  as  they  hatch, 
but  this  is  not  true  of  the  lark.  Its  young  remain  in  the 
nest  until  fully  grown.  The  mother  bird  feeds  them  on 
insects. 

The  meadow  lark  lives  over  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  United  States  and  is  usually  to  be  found  on  the  ground 
in  meadows  and  pastures.  These  birds  are  plump  and  ac- 
tive, about  the  size  of  the  common  bob-white  quail,  but 
rather  more  slender.  They  have  bright  yellow  throats  and  a 
black  V-shaped  blotch  on  the  breast,  which  serves  to  iden- 
tify them.  If  we  see  a  brown  bird  about  the  size  of  a 
quail,  with  rather  slender  neck  and  a  yellow  throat,  run- 
ning about  in  the  meadow  and  pastures,  we  can  be  pretty 
sure  that  it  is  a  lark.  There  are  two  varieties  of  meadow 
larks,  and  they  are  best  distinguished  from  each  other  by 
the  variation  in  the  yellow  around  the  throat  and  the 
color  of  the  upper  parts,  wings,  and  tail.  Each  kind  has 
a  song  of  its  own,  altho  even  the  song  has  some  similarity 
in  the  two  varieties. 

Meadow  larks  are  among  the  first  birds  to  be  heard  in 
the  early  spring,  and  I  have  always  considered  them  among 
our  most  delightful  songsters.  We  do  not  hear  them  sing 
so  often  in  the  late  summer  or  early  fall ;  but  on  any  bright 
day  in  the  winter  and  from  then  on  through  the  spring 
and  summer  they  may  be  heard  every  morning.  As  the 
fall  approaches,  most  of  the  meadow  larks  move  to  the 
South,  but  many  remain  all  winter.  I  have  seen  them  by 


232     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  hundreds  on  the  hare  prairies  of  the  Missouri  River 
valley  between  Omaha  and  Sioux  City  when  the  ther- 
mometer was  twenty  helow  zero.  At  such  times  their 
food  consists  largely  of  such  seeds  as  they  can  pick 
up.  The  day  is  never  so  cold  but  that  if  the  sun  comes 
out  and  shines  for  an  hour  or  two  you  can  hear 
them  singing  their  thankfulness  for  its  warmth.  Where 
I  now  live  near  Nashville,  Tennessee,  larks  come  in  by 
thousands  every  fall  and  are  to  be  seen  in  great  numbers 
almost  every  day.  In  fact,  I  can  sit  in  my  class  room  and 
look  out  over  the  pasture  and  see  a  dozen  or  more  dis- 
puting the  hunting  grounds  with  the  kildeers.  Most  of 
the  larks  go  farther  south  than  our  locality,  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  January  or  the  first  of  February  as  they 
begin  to  work  their  way  back  northward  the  fields  and 
meadows  are  all  atune  with  them.  They  move  north 
leisurely,  having  a  good  time  as  they  go,  so  it  is  no  un- 
common thing  for  them  to  spend  several  weeks  with  us 
before  going  further. 

Our  meadow  larks  are  not  much  like  the  English  lark. 
In  fact,  ours  are  not  really  larks.  The  English  birds  have 
a  prolonged  song,  while  ours  merely  whistle  a  delight- 
fully musical  note,  and  repeat  it  every  few  moments.  As 
I  write  this,  December  tenth,  I  can  hear  the  meadow  larks 
singing  in  the  distance.  They  have  come  from  the  north 
and,  unlike  the  bluebirds,  are  singing  their  thankfulness 
for  a  delightful  winter  home. 

I  have  introduced  you  to  the  meadow  larks,  but  I  have 
not  said  one  word  about  their  company  name.  When  a 
lark  is  introduced  into  learned  company  he  is  not  presented 
as  "Mr.  Lark,"  but  as  "Mr.  American  Oriole/'  (a  later 
name  than  starling),  for  that  is  his  name  in  the  big  books. 


THE  MEADOW  LARK  233 

This  may  sound  ever  so  well  to  those  who  are  nsed  to  it, 
but  when  as  a  boy  I  read  about  the  American  orioles  I 
had  not  the  least  idea  that  they  were  my  everyday  friends, 
the  larks.  Call  them  larks  if  you  choose,  but  you  should 
know  that  they  are  really  American  orioles  just  the  same—- 
not a  relative  of  the  black,  pilfering  starling  of  Europe. 
Our  meadow  lark  feeds  entirely  in  the  meadows,  and  eats 
mostly  insects,  seeds,  and  a  little  grass. 


XXXIII 

THE  HANGING  BIRD 

ONE  morning  early  in  May  mother  and  I  were  out  in 
the  apple  orchard  admiring  the  blossoms  and  looking 
for  the  old  mammoth  bronze  turkey's  nest.  Hoping  we 
might  be  able  to  track  her  to  her  nest,  we  were  partly  hid- 
den behind  a  grape  vine  watching  the  old  turkey  as  she 
stole  through  the  clover.  Suddenly  a  bright  orange  streak 
flashed  before  our  eyes  and  a  black  and  orange-yellow  bird 
about  half  way  in  size  between  a  bluebird  and  a  robin 
alighted  on  a  limb  almost  above  our  heads  and  began 
caroling  its  song.  I  watched  it  almost  breathless  for  fear 
it  might  see  us  and  fly.  To  me  it  was  a  new  bird.  I  had 
doubtless  seen  it  before,  but  small  boys  do  not  always  no- 
tice all  they  see  nor  remember  all  they  notice.  This  bird 
was  such  a  brilliant  orange-yellow,  with  such  black  wings, 
tail,  and  head,  and  its  voice  was  so  musical,  that  the 
thought  came  to  me  at  once,  "I  wish  this  bird  would  build 
its  nest  somewhere  near,  so  I  can  watch  it  this  summer." 
Presently  the  bird  flew  away  and  I  said  to  mother, 
"What  kind  of  bird  was  that?"  She  replied  that  it  was  a 
"hanging  bird/'  and  to  my  question,  "What  is  a  hanging 
bird  ?"  she  explained  that  it  was  a  bird  that  builds  a  hang- 
ing nest.  I  asked  if  she  supposed  it  possible  that  it  would 
nest  where  I  could  see  it,  for  I  had  never  seen  a  hanging 

234 


THE  HANGING  BIRD  285 

bird's  nest.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "if  you  will  get  bunches  of 
horsehairs  and  pieces  of  string  and  put  them  about  on 
fence  posts  and  in  the  limbs  of  trees,  most  likely  this  bird 
will  find  them  and  decide  to  build  its  nest  where  material 
is  plenty."  At  once  I  asked  where  to  get  the  horsehairs 
and  was  given  permission  to  take  a  pair  of  scissors  and  go 
to  the  barn  and  cut  a  small  bunch  here  and  there  out  of 
old  Phoebe's  and  Flora's  tails.  Phoebe  and  Flora  were 
the  old  sorrel  horses  that  were  the  main  stand-bys  on  the 
farm.  Mother  made  me  promise  that  I  would  not  get 
hair  from  the  other  horses'  tails  and  that  I  would  not  get 
so  much  as  to  spoil  the  looks  of  their  tails;  and  away  I 
went,  happy  as  could  be,  to  get  my  horsehairs.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  father  was  in  the  barn;  and  when  I  told 
him  what  I  wanted  he  not  only  let  me  clip  from  Phoebe's 
and  Flora's  tails  but  got  me  a  fine  bunch  of  long  white 
hair  from  Tuck's  tail,  and  some  long  black  hair  from 
Napoleon's. 

Armed  with  this  supply,  I  put  horsehairs  in  the  cracks 
and  under  the  splinters  of  every  post  and  fence  stake 
within  three  or  four  rods  of  the  great  red  maple  tree  that 
grew  near  the  milk  house  pump.  Later  mother  gave  me 
some  short  pieces  of  cotton  warp  that  were  left  when  she 
had  finished  threading  the  loom  for  a  new  carpet,  and  these 
were  scattered  about  in  the  same  way. 

Nothing  happened  for  a  day  or  two,  and  by  that  time  I 
was  busy  making  stick  nests  in  the  box  elder  trees  below 
the  barn  in  the  hope  that  a  robin  would  decide  on  one  of 
them  as  a  convenient  home  for  him,  and  my  horsehairs 
and  strings  were  forgotten.  I  suppose  I  must  have  built 
a  dozen  such  nests,  or  what  I  called  nests,  and  came  home 
at  dinner  time  full  of  plans  to  tell  mother  about  the  won- 


236     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

derf ul  things  I  had  been  doing  and  the  still  more  wonderful 
ones  I  meant  to  do.  But  before  I  got  the  story  half  out  of 
my  mouth  she  said,  "Floyd,  do  you  know  the  hanging 
birds  are  using  your  horsehairs  today  ?"  Of  course,  I 
could  not  eat  dinner  until  I  had  gone  out  to  watch,  and 
sure  enough  these  birds  were  busy  carrying  strings  and 
horsehairs  into  the  very  top  of  the  red  maple  tree,  where 
they  were  weaving  them  into  a  baglike  nest.  A  place  had 
been  selected  where  the  strings  could  be  woven  about  three 
limbs,  so  the  nest  would  be  perfectly  secure.  For  nearly 
a  week  the  birds  worked  busily  carrying  strings  and  hairs, 
and  after  the  second  day  more  or  less  grass,  to  this  nest. 
When  it  was  completed  it  was  a  sort  of  bag  about  six 
inches  deep  and  three  or  four  inches  in  diameter.  It  had 
been  woven  together  so  securely  that  it  was  almost  as 
strong  as  a  cloth  bag  would  have  been.  Inside  of  this 
baglike  network  was  a  lining  of  wool  from  the  sheep  shed, 
feathers  from  the  chicken  yard,  and  soft  grass  and  moss. 
The  nest  was  so  high  that  I  could  not  climb  to  any  place 
where  I  could  look  into  it,  and  both  mother  and  father 
told  me  that  this  bird  is  so  shy  that  if  I  ever  touched  the 
nest  they  would  leave  it  even  tho  there  were  young  birds 
in  it.  I  used  to  climb  the  maple  tree  to  within  ten  or 
twelve  feet  of  the  nest  and  watch  it  with  longing  eyes,  but 
never  dared  go  nearer — not  because  I  was  afraid  the  birds 
would  leave  the  nest  but  because  the  limbs  were  so  small 
that  I  feared  they  would  break  with  me.  I  spent  so  much 
time  watching  this  bird  that  she  finally  came  to  regard  me 
as  a  necessary  evil,  and  went  about  her  business  as  tho  I 
were  not  near. 

You  will  probably  wonder  what  the  real  name  of  this 
bird  is,  for  doubtless  you  know  that  "hanging  bird"  was  not 


THE  BALTIMORE  ORIOLE 
Upper  Bird — Male         Lower  Bird— Female 


THE  HANGING  BIRD  237 

its  real  name.  It  was  a  Baltimore  oriole,  a  bird  that  most 
of  my  readers  can  find  in  their  orchards  if  they  but  take 
the  trouble  to  look.  There  are  several  varieties  of  orioles, 
most  of  them  orange  or  yellow  and  black  in  color  and 
all  about  the  same  size.  So  far  as  I  know  all  of  them  build 
hanging  nests.  Some  of  the  others  are  fully  as  brilliantly 
colored  as  the  Baltimore  oriole. 

"We  were  especially  delighted  to  have  this  nest  by  the 
side  of  our  orchard,  because  these  birds  feed  on  small 
moths  and  butterflies  or  their  caterpillars.  The  codling 
moth,  which  lays  the  egg  that  makes  the  apple  worm,  is 
especially  liked  by  the  orioles,  and  many  farmers  believe 
that  a  pair  or  two  of  orioles  nesting  in  the  orchard  will 
save  at  least  fifty  bushels  of  apples  from  becoming  wormy. 
In  those  days  we  knew  nothing  about  spraying  to  keep 
away  worms,  so  orioles  were  always  welcome  with  us.  In 
Knowing  Insects  Through  Stories,*  you  will  find  some  of 
the  methods  we  used  to  get  rid  of  the  codling  moth,  but  we 
relied  on  the  birds  about  as  much  as  on  anything  to  pre- 
vent wormy  apples. 

Those  birds  used  to  drink  and  bathe  regularly  in  the 
trough  where  we  watered  the  horses,  just  outside  the  yard 
tinder  their  maple  tree.  I  liked  to  hide  among  the  blue 
damson  plum  trees  and  watch  them  take  their  daily  bath. 
First  Mr.  Oriole  would  alight  on  the  side  of  the  trough, 
drink  a  few  swallows,  throw  a  few  drops  of  water  over  his 
back  with  his  bill,  edge  about  on  the  side  of  the  trough 
looking  for  a  place  that  suited  him  better,  stick  his  head 
in  the  water  and  rub  it  over  his  shoulders,  splatter  a  time  or 
two  with  his  wings,  and  then,  perhaps,  hop  on  the  fence 

*  Published  by  Funk  &  WagnaUs  Company,  1921. 


238     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

or  on  the  lower  limbs  of  the  tree,  look  about,  shake  him- 
self again,  and  I  would  be  disappointed,  feeling  sure  he 
was  not  going  to  bathe  after  all.  Presently  he  would  hop 
back  on  the  side  of  the  trough  and  again  begin  dabbling  in 
the  water.  After  a  few  moments  of  these  preliminaries  he 
would  hop  off  into  the  trough  even  tho  the  water  were  five 
or  six  inches  deep,  and  fairly  make  it  fly  as  he  splattered 
with  his  wings,  ducked  and  dived  until  in  a  few  moments 
he  was  wet  to  the  skin.  After  that  he  would  scramble  up 
on  the  side  of  the  trough,  shake  himself  a  time  or  two,  and 
then  begin  drying  the  water  out  of  his  feathers.  If  dan- 
ger had  come  just  at  that  time,  he  would  have  found  it 
difficult  indeed  to  escape,  for  I  have  seen  him  try  to  fly 
to  the  top  of  the  fence  not  more  than  three  feet  above 
the  trough  and  hardly  succeed  in  doing  so.  After  fluttering 
and  shaking  himself  as  free  from  water  as  possible  he  usu- 
ally hopped  to  the  top  of  the  tall  corner  post,  which  always 
caught  the  sun,  to  finish  drying  himself.  Here  every 
feather  was  carefully  smoothed  out  and  drawn  through  his 
bill  till  it  was  clean  and  smooth,  and  then  he  flew  back  to 
look  after  household  affairs  and  allow  his  wife  to  take  her 
bath.  It  was  never  long  before  she  appeared  and  bathed 
as  enthusiastically  as  her  husband,  but  I  never  knew  them 
to  bathe  at  the  same  time.  One  always  waited  until  the 
other  was  through  and  thoroughly  dry. 

I  usually  had  several  bird  pets,  and  naturally  became 
anxious  to  add  an  oriole  to  the  number,  but  it  was  a  ques- 
tion how  I  was  to  secure  it.  I  could  not  climb  to  the  nest, 
still  I  had  hopes  that  I  could  catch  a  young  bird  as  soon 
as  it  left  the  nest,  but  before  it  was  able  to  fly  well.  I 
watched  carefully,  but  when  the  young  birds  left  the  nest 
they  were  able  to  fly  so  well  I  could  not  catch  them,  so 


THE  HANGING  BIRD  239 

there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  the  second  brood.  In 
the  meantime  a  neighbor,  Milo  Lemley,  succeeded  in  getting 
some  young  birds  just  as  they  were  ready  to  leave  the 
nest.  Not  knowing  what  to  feed  them,  he  put  them  in  a 
cage  and  hung  the  cage  in  a  tree  near  enough  the  nest 
for  the  parents  to  find  it,  yet  close  enough  to  the  porch  for 
him  to  watch  what  the  old  birds  did.  In  this  way  he 
hoped  not  only  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  feeding  his  birds  but 
also  to  learn  what  they  were  fed.  We  often  did  this  with 
young  birds,  and  in  this  way  found  out  much  we  might 
never  have  learned  otherwise. 

The  old  birds  found  their  young  promptly  and  fed  them 
readily  the  first  day ;  but  they  also  tried  in  every  way  they 
knew  to  get  their  young  out  of  the  cage.  The  cage  was 
taken  indoors  at  night,  and  put  out  again  early  the  next 
morning.  Again  the  parents  fed  their  young,  but  both  old 
and  young  made  even  greater  efforts  to  open  the  prison 
doors.  Finally  sometime  after  noon  the  parents  seemingly 
decided  it  was  of  no  use;  so  they  stopped  trying  to  get 
into  the  cage,  and  again  went  for  food  for  the  young.  After 
feeding  them  this  time  they  flew  away  and  did  not  again 
return  to  the  cage.  Before  night  every  young  bird  was 
dead.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  they  had  starved,  so 
we  felt  sure  the  old  birds  had  poisoned  them  rather  than 
allow  them  to  languish  in  prison.  Both  mother  and 
Milo's  father  said  that  these  birds  will  poison  their  young 
if  they  are  caged.  After  that  I  never  tried  to  catch  young 
orioles,  for  tho  I  always  gave  my  pet  birds  as  great  free- 
dom as  the  wild  birds  as  soon  as  they  had  become  tame,  yet 
I  felt  it  would  be  cruel  to  keep,  even  for  a  short  time, 
birds  that  preferred  death  to  captivity.  Others  have  caged 
young  Baltimore  orioles,  however,  and  report  that  the 


240     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

parents  feed  them  readily,  and  that  they  are  easy  to 
rear. 

My  orioles  nested  in  the  top  of  the  red  maple  tree  year 
after  year,  even  after  I  no  longer  put  out  nesting  mate- 
rial for  them.  Perhaps  they  never  missed  my  coopera- 
tion, for  in  a  farmyard  there  is  usually  plenty  of  wool  and 
hairs  on  poets  and  trees  against  which  animals  have  rubhed. 


xxxiy 

PETER  THE  GOLDFINCH 

PETEE  was  a  goldfinch.  He  never  told  me  where  he 
hailed  from  nor  just  how  it  happened  that  he  was 
alone  in  the  world;  but  I  had  always  suspected  that  the 
old  spotted  cat  knew  something  about  it,  for  a  day  or 
two  before  I  met  Peter  she  had  a  lady  goldfinch  for  her 
breakfast. 

I  was  in  the  garden  planting  peas  when  I  heard  a  rustle 
behind  me  and  looked  around.  There  was  Peter,  hopping 
about  in  the  raspberry  patch  hard  by,  dividing  his  time 
between  singing  and  trying  to  get  the  seeds  of  an  Indian 
lettuce  head.  I  noticed  him  particularly  because  he  was 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  colored  finches  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  he  had  a  white  feather  in  his  tail  which  served 
to  distinguish  him  from  the  other  goldfinches  in  the  vicin- 
ity. Our  gooseberry  and  raspberry  patch,  at  the  side  of 
the  garden,  and  the  plum  orchard  beyond  had  long  been 
favorite  nesting  places  of  the  goldfinches — "wild  canaries/' 
we  called  them ;  so  I  was  not  surprized  to  see  Peter.  As  he 
could  be  easily  recognized  by  the  white  feather  in  his  tail, 
I  determined  to  get  acquainted  with  him. 

I  then  had  no  idea  that  these  birds  were  not  really 
canaries.  They  are  about  the  same  size  and  the  males  are 
as  brilliantly  colored  as  a  canary.  I  had  often  wondered 

241 


242     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

why  the  wild  ones  did  not  sing  so  well  as  those  in  our 
neighbor's  cage.  I  realized  that  they  are  slightly  heavier 
in  build  than  canaries,  and  that  they  have  black  wings  and 
a  black  cap;  but  canaries  often  show. a  great  deal  of  black, 
and  resemble  goldfinches  fully  as  much  as  the  wild  pigeons 
resembled  the  tame  ones  that  nested  in  our  barn.  I  find 
that  most  people  make  the  same  mistake  of  calling  the 
goldfinch  a  wild  canary.  At  home  when  these  birds 
played  havoc  with  the  seed  on  an  especially  desired  let- 
tuce plant  mother  spoke  of  them  as  lettuce  birds  but 
that  was  only  a  temporary  name.  In  my  own  mind 
I  ascribed  their  inability  to  sing  as  well  as  tame 
canaries  to  their  lack  of  training.  The  facts  are 
that  they  belong  to  the  same  family  but  are  different 
species. 

Peter  had  no  wife.  This  was  not  Peter's  fault,  for  of 
all  the  goldfinches  in  the  vicinity  none  was  more  gallant 
to  the  lady  goldfinches  and  none  sang  so  often  as  Peter. 
In  fact,  it  was  this  insistent  singing  that  caused  me  to 
watch  him  carefully  enough  to  learn  that  he  was  a  bache- 
lor. 

Goldfinches  are  sociable  birds  and  usually  fly  in  flocks  of 
at  least  half  a  dozen.  Alighting  on  a  sunflower  head  or  a 
weed  that  promises  to  furnish  seed,  they  hunt  carefully 
for  some  time  and  then  fly  away  together  to  the  next 
place.  They  have  a  peculiar  up  and  down  motion  in  their 
flight,  and  a  "Cut-a-cut-cut"  in  a  sweet  wave  like  voice  as 
they  fly.  Should  they  pass  where  others  of  their  kind  are 
sitting,  they  always  receive  an  invitation  to  stop  for  a 
visit  and  seem  always  to  accept  the  invitation.  Peter  was 
different.  He  hunted  alone  in  the  garden  and  the  meadow, 
tho  he  always  invited  every  passing  flock  to  dine  with 


PETER  THE  GOLDFINCH  243 

him.  Often  he  flew  away  with  them,  but  it  was  not  long 
till  he  was  again  in  his  own  garden. 

The  fall  before  I  became  acquainted  with  Peter  my  Aunt 
Eve  Adams  had  given  me  a  canary  bird.  It  was  scarcely 
grown,  and  no  one  knew  whether  it  would  prove  a  singer 
or  not.  I  cared  for  this  bird  carefully  and  it  had  become 
very  tame.  Each  day  I  watched  for  it  to  begin  to  sing. 
My  friends,  wise  in  bird  lore,  said  it  did  not  sing  because 
I  allowed  it  too  much  freedom.  I  never  believed  birds 
were  made  to  live  in  cages.  I  had  a  cage  for  my  canary, 
but  it  was  little  more  than  a  convenient  roosting  and 
feeding  place,  for  the  bird  was  allowed  the  freedom  of  the 
house. 

I  called  this  bird  "Dick."  Had  I  waited  a  year,  the 
name  would  have  been  different.  Dick  soon  learned  that 
the  stove  pipe  was  apt  to  be  hot  and  that  the  dining  room 
table  was  forbidden  ground.  Otherwise  he  went  wherever 
he  pleased.  He  was  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the  old 
spotted  cat.  It  was  not  uncommon  after  we  had  all  been 
away  for  some  time  to  find  this  cat  quietly  dozing  behind 
the  stove  with  Dickie  sitting  on  her  head  pecking  at  her 
ears.  If  he  happened  to  peck  a  little  too  hard  she  would 
open  an  eye  sleepily,  utter  a  little  mew  of  protest,  and 
perhaps  shake  him  off  of  her  head  and  then  go  back  to 
sleep. 

When  the  weather  became  warm  I  often  hung  the  bird 
cage  in  the  great  willow  tree  in  front  of  the  kitchen  door, 
and  before  many  days  Peter  discovered  and  began  paying 
attention  to  Dickie.  Finally  it  dawned  on  us  that  Dickie 
had  been  misnamed.  We  left  the  cage  door  open  most  of 
the  time.  At  first  Dickie  seemed  afraid  of  the  great  out- 
of-doors  but  before  long  she  flew  everywhere,  but  always 


244     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

came  back  before  dark.  This  came  to  be  a  habit,  and 
after  that  we  did  not  take  her  cage  in  overnight. 

I  never  knew  just  when  it  happened,  but  one  evening 
I  discovered  that  Dickie  was  not  in  the  cage.  Probably 
she  had  been  gone  for  several  nights.  Mother  said  she 
came  back  several  times  every  day  for  seeds  that  were 
always  kept  in  the  cage  and  for  water.  Nevertheless  she 
had  been  spending  considerable  time  in  the  garden  with 
Peter. 

It  was  the  strangest  occurrence  I  have  ever  known  among 
the  wildlings ;  but  Dickie  and  Peter  fell  in  love  with  each 
other,  and  finally  Dickie  ceased  to  come  back  to  her  cage 
at  all.  We  left  the  cage  in  the  tree  for  two  or  three 
weeks.  But  when  Dickie  did  not  return  it  was  finally  taken 
into  the  house  to  await  the  needs  of  the  first  crippled  bird 
found  in  the  neighborhood.  We  supposed  that  Dickie, 
having  been  reared  in  a  cage,  had  lost  the  instinct  of  the 
wildlings  and  had  been  unable  to  cope  with  the  hardships 
of  the  great  out-of-doors. 

One  day  late  in  August  I  went  to  see  if  the  Miner  plums 
were  beginning  to  ripen.  Imagine  my  surprize  to  have 
Dickie  meet  me  and  alight  on  my  shoulder  as  friendly  as 
could  be.  She  seemed  overjoyed  to  see  me  again.  Soon 
I  noticed  Peter.  He  was  sitting  in  a  plum  tree  near  by 
and  seemed  very  much  concerned  over  the  turn  events 
were  taking.  He  scolded  and  protested  until  it  dawned  on 
me  that  Peter  had  at  last  found  a  wife  and  that  his  wife 
was  Dickie.  Then  I  understood  why  she  had  forsaken 
her  cage.  Before  long  I  found  their  nest.  It  was  not  at 
all  like  the  nests  we  see  in  a  canary's  cage.  I  have  never 
seen  a  wild  canary's  nest,  but  from  its  description  in  the 
books  it  must  be  something  like  the  nest  of  the  goldfinch. 


PETER  THE  GOLDFINCH  245 

At  any  rate  Dickie's  was  built  very  much  like  the  nest 
of  the  goldfinches  near  by,  tho  it  did  not  show  as  fine 
workmanship. 

Goldfinches  are  peculiar  birds.  They  are  in  the  North 
always  early  in  the  spring,  but  for  some  unexplained  rea- 
son do  not  nest  until  August.  Just  at  the  time  other  birds 
have  finished  their  year's  brooding,  and  are  beginning 
to  molt  and  get  ready  for  winter,  the  goldfinches  think 
about  rearing  a  family.  Possibly  they  have  been  waiting 
for  an  abundance  of  milkweed  and  thistledown.  At  any 
rate  they  raise  their  young  in  a  veritable  bed  of  down 
gathered  from  these  weeds.  The  outside  of  the  nest  is 
closely  woven  of  fine  grass  and  shreds  of  tough  bark,  but 
the  bottom  inside  is  a  cushion  of  down  sometimes  an  inch 
thick.  For  so  tiny  a  nest  it  would  seem  unnecessary  to 
make  so  thick  a  base,  but  evidently  this  bird,  having  waited 
so  long,  means  to  give  its  young  the  best  that  can  be  had. 
The  nest  is  often  placed  in  a  bush  or  low  shrub,  not 
more  than  five  or  six  feet  from  the  ground.  However,  for 
years  our  plum  thicket  was  a  favorite  nesting  place  for 
these  birds,  and  as  the  trees  had  been  pruned  so  that  the 
lowest  limbs  were  five  or  six  feet  high,  their  nests  were 
usually  ten  or  twelve  feet  from  the  ground;  and  nests 
have  been  reported  as  high  as  thirty  or  forty  feet. 

The  goldfinch  sometimes  weaves  lichens  in  the  outer  cov- 
ering of  the  nest,  like  the  wood  peewee,  so  that  it  is  difficult 
to  discover.  The  goldfinch  lays  from  four  to  six  bluish 
white  eggs,  not  differing  much  from  canary  eggs  except 
that  these  last  are  usually  marked  with  reddish  brown. 

The  female  goldfinch  usually  does  all  of  the  nestbuilding, 
tho  her  mate  sometimes  assists  in  carrying  material  and 
always  feeds  her  while  she  is  brooding.  The  mother  canary 


246     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

is  also  usually  insistent  on  building  her  own  nest,  so  the 
resemblance  Dickie's  nest  bore  to  those  of  the  goldfinches 
about  her  may  have  been  due  to  the  material  furnished  by 
her  spouse.  When  winter  came,  Peter,  Dickie,  and  their 
family  flew  away  to  the  Southland. 

The  goldfinch  feeds  largely  on  weed  and  grass  seeds, 
and,  small  as  he  is,  where  these  are  abundant,  he  often 
remains  all  winter,  even  where  the  thermometer  goes 
well  below  zero. 


XXXV 

THE   SONG   SPARROW 

ON"  my  way  to  school  and  as  I  played  in  the  fields  I 
was  always  charmed  with  the  song  of  the  song  spar- 
row. This  is  a  small  brown  bird  possibly  a  little  less 
heavily  built  than  the  English  sparrow.  The  resemblance 
in  shape,  size,  and  color  is  close  enough  so  that  probably 
most  of  my  readers  would  be  able  to  recognize  him  as  a 
sparrow  from  having  known  his  quarrelsome  foreign 
cousin. 

But  with  this  physical  likeness  the  resemblance  ceases. 
The  English  sparrow  is  a  spiteful,  quarrelsome  bird  with 
anything  but  a  musical  voice.  He  resembles  nothing  so 
much  as  the  quarrelsome,  fighting  street  Arabs  with  whom, 
he  lives.  He  seldom  does  anything  which  is  of  value  to 
man  but  is  a  genuine  nuisance  because  he  is  so  often  quar- 
reling, fighting,  or  pestering  some  poor  birds  that  are 
both  musical  and  beneficial,  until  it  leaves  his  vicinity  in 
disgust.  On  the  other  hand,  the  song  sparrow  is  one  of  our 
gayest  and  sweetest  song  birds.  One  could  not  travel  the 
roads  near  my  boyhood  home  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  with- 
out seeing  several  of  these  birds  sitting  on  fence  stakes, 
the  top  wire  of  a  fence,  or  on  weeds  or  twigs,  every  one 
singing  as  if  his  whole  mission  in  life  was  to  cheer  pass- 
ers by. 

247 


248     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Some  birds  have  a  musical  voice  but  a  limited  range  to 
their  notes.  Other  birds  have  a  wide  range  of  notes  but 
little  music.  The  wood  thrush  is  an  example  of  the  first 
class  while  the  blue  jay  is  a  good  example  of  the  second. 
Perhaps  few  birds  have  a  wider  range  of  notes  than  he;  yet 
few  birds  have  less  music  in  their  voice.  The  song  spar- 
row is  different  from  both  these.  He  not  only  has  a  de- 
lightfully musical  voice  but  there  is  enough  variation  to 
his  song  to  make  it  pleasing  indeed. 

He  builds  his  nest  in  the  meadows  or  orchards ;  usually 
the  nest  is  on  the  ground  and  sometimes  in  a  bush  or 
a  tree.  It  seems  that  these  birds  can  never  be  sure  which 
is  best.  They  raise  three  broods  each  year,  and  build 
three  nests  in  which  to  do  so.  The  first  may  be  on  the 
ground,  the  second  in  a  tree,  and  the  third  in  a  bush,  or 
vice  versa.  The  nest  is  made  of  grass  and  lined  with  hair, 
usually  horse  hair.  The  eggs  are  bluish  white,  speckled 
all  over  with  brown.  My  observation  has  been  that  six  are 
usually  laid  in  the  first  clutch,  five  in  the  second,  and  only 
three  in  the  third.  The  young  are  fed  largely  on  insects. 
The  mother  is  a  faultless  housekeeper,  carrying  all  litter 
thirty  or  forty  feet  from  the  nest.  In  fact,  when  her 
young  are  ready  to  fly,  her  nest  is  in  as  good  condition  as 
that  of  most  birds  when  first  built.  A  new  nest  would 
seem  wholly  unnecessary,  but  this  bird  will  take  no 
chance  with  vermin  or  disease — strange  contrast  with  her 
filth  loving  English  cousin.  The  old  bird  feeds  almost 
entirely  on  insects  and  weed  seeds;  and,  living  as  he 
does  where  weed  seeds  are  most  apt  to  be  a  nuisance,  his 
efforts  in  this  line  are  beneficial  indeed. 

After  you  have  learned  to  recognize  sparrows  by  their 
shape  and  general  appearance  you  will  be  able  to  distinguish 


THE  SONG  SPARROW  249 

the  song  sparrow  from  the  others  by  his  beautiful  song. 
The  song  sparrow  is  one  of  the  first  birds  to  arrive  in  the 
spring  and  one  of  the  last  to  leave  in  the  fall.  In  fact, 
as  far  north  as  my  old  home  in  Southeastern  Iowa  they 
sometimes  stayed  all  winter.  At  intervals,  when  there 
were  warm  days,  they  sang  even  in  the  winter.  In  fact, 
I  think  I  especially  loved  these  birds  because  they  were 
so  cheery  and  full  of  song  when  there  were  so  few  birds 
about. 

I  am  not  attempting  in  this  story  to  tell  the  story  of 
one  sparrow  only,  but  to  help  you  to  learn  about  sparrows 
in  general,  for  they  are  numerous  in  this  country.  It  is 
said  that  on  the  average  about  every  tenth  bird  in  the 
United  States  is  a  sparrow,  and  this  is  not  necessarily 
because  of  the  large  number  of  English  sparrows  either. 
Most  of  our  American  sparrows,  of  which  we  have  more 
than  a  hundred  kinds,  are  beneficial  because  they  live  so 
largely  on  weed  seeds  and  insects. 

Another  of  our  most  common  and  widely  distributed 
sparrows  is  the  chipping  sparrow,  so  called  because  of 
the  peculiar  "chip,  chip,"  which  is  the  most  common  note 
it  utters.  As  a  child  I  knew  it  as  the  "chip  bird."  You 
will  find  it  easy  to  locate  one  by  its  chipping  song. 


XXXVI 

THE  TOWHEE 

THE  desire  to  know  the  wildling  springs  as  naturally  in 
a  boy's  heart  as  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  or  run  in  the 
warm  sunshine.  I  am  sure  that  when  as  a  five  or  six-year- 
old  boy  I  used  to  beg  a  pin  from  mother,  bend  it  into  a 
fish  hook,  tie  a  twine  string  just  below  the  head,  and 
trudge  away  fo  Wymore's  Branch  to  spend  an  afternoon 
fishing,  it  was  not  just  because  I  liked  to  catch  fish.  I 
think  the  greatest  pleasure  connected  with  the  whole  oc- 
cupation was  the  opportunity  to  get  out  with  nature,  and 
the  chance  to  match  wits  with  the  finny  denizens  of  the 
brook.  In  fact,  I  did  not  always  try  to  catch  these  fish. 
Many  an  hour  I  have  fished  with  the  bait  fastened  on  the 
string  in  such  a  way  that  the  fish  could  take  it  readily 
without  being  caught.  It  was  great  sport  to  dangle  this 
bait  near  the  surface  of  the  water  and  watch  the  different 
ways  the  various  kinds  of  minnows  fed. 

There  was  a  shady  pool  at  the  foot  of  the  fern  bluff  only 
a  few  rods  from  an  old  stone  quarry  where  some  skunks  had 
their  den.  I  especially  liked  to  fish  there,  not  because  it 
was  the  best  place  in  the  creek  to  catch  fish,  but  because 
the  water  was  clearer  than  anywhere  else  and  I  could  see 
more  of  the  fishes'  doings.  Besides  at  this  place  it  made 
one  feel  glad  that  he  was  alive  just  to  look  at  the  flowers 
and  ferns  on  the  bank.  Since  I  have  grown  old  enough 

250 


THE  TOWHEE  251 

and  brave  enough  to  go  out  among  the  wildlings  without 
any  excuse,  I  have  abandoned  both  fishing  and  shooting 
for  sport. 

While  I  especially  liked  to  fish  in  this  pool,  there  was 
a  little  black,  orange,  and  white  bird  which  did  not  ap- 
preciate my  presence.  I  never  could  come  near  this 
place  but  he  began  flitting  about  among  the  branches  and 
tittering  a  peculiar  cry  of  protest  which  sounded  to  me 
something  like  "W-R-R-INK  W-R-R-INK." 

This  very  active  bird  was  somewhat  similar  in  size  and 
appearance  to  the  Baltimore  oriole,  but  lacked  the  golden 
color.  He  never  was  still  for  more  than  a  few  moments 
at  a  time,  but  was  always  jumping  back  and  forth,  here 
and  there,  and  darting  through  the  foliage  until  it  almost 
made  me  dizzy  to  watch  him.  We  called  him  the  "Joree." 
Since  I  have  grown  up  I  have  come  more  often  to  speak  of 
him  as  the  "towhee."  In  fact,  there  seem  to  be  few  birds 
that  have  more  names  than  this  fellow. 

This  towhee  was  almost  always  on  the  ground  or  slip- 
ping back  and  forth  among  the  low  bushes.  He  especially 
delighted  in  the  willows  that  hung  out  over  the  creek,  for 
there  he  could  find  plenty  of  caterpillars  and  other  food  and 
be  concealed  at  the  same  time.  From  there  he  would  fly 
to  the  bank  under  the  old  fernery  and  scratch  vigorously, 
making  the  leaves  fairly  fly. 

If  you  wish  to  identify  this  bird,  there  is  no  character- 
istic more  prominent  than  this  habit  of  scratching  in  the 
leaves.  Few  birds  as  small  as  this  are  at  all  likely  to  be 
found  on  the  ground  scratching  and  turning  over  the  leaves. 
If  you  approach  he  slips  under  a  brush  pile  at  once,  or 
slyly  moves  through  the  brush  or  tall  weeds.  In  fact,  he  is 
distinctly  a  ground  dweller. 


252     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

His  nest  is  made  by  scratching  a  hole  in  the  ground 
just  large  enough  so  that  when  the  leaves  and  grass  which 
constitute  the  nest  are  fitted  in  place,  it  will  be  level  with 
the  surface  of  the  ground.  It  is  usually  placed  under  a 
bush  or  in  a  thick  tuft  of  grass.  Shreds  of  bark  and  dry 
leaves  are  piled  in  first  and  then  lined  with  dry  grass,  but 
the  leaves  and  bits  of  bark  are  left  in  sight  and  others 
are  strewn  about  until  it  is  almost  impossible  to  discover 
the  nest.  This  usually  contains  four  or  five  dingy  white 
eggs,  finely  speckled  with  reddish  lilac.  The  female  bird's 
brown  and  white  markings  mingle  closely  with 
the  color  of  the  dead  grass  and  dry  leaves  so  as  effectively 
to  conceal  the  bird  when  sitting.  Mr.  Towhee  is  exceed- 
ingly nervous,  and  is  continually  spreading  his  wings  and 
opening  his  long  fan-like  tail  with  a  jerky  motion  which 
is  very  noticeable  because  of  the  white  spots  it  reveals.  I 
have  followed  these  birds  up  and  down  the  creek  and 
watched  their  maneuvers  for  hours  at  a  time.  It  is  sur- 
prizing how  many  insects  and  grubs  they  eat.  They  eat 
something  two  or  three  times  every  minute  that  they  are 
hunting,  and  they  seem  to  hunt  more  than  half  of  the  time. 

As  a  songster  the  towhee  is  a  shining  success.  Few  birds 
have  more  musical  notes,  when  he  wishes  to  sing.  However, 
the  note  most  common  is  the  rasping  sort  of  "W-R-R-INK" 
mentioned  above.  His  real  song  is  usually  given  from  the 
thick  leafy  branches  of  some  tree,  and  is  more  often 
heard  in  the  early  morning  or  late  evening. 


XXXVII 

THE  CARDINAL 

EAELY  one  spring  morning  we  started  from  home  to 
drive  to  Sigourney,  our  country  seat — father,  mother 
and  I.  I  remember  well  that  when  we  entered  the  great 
body  of  timber  that  extended  from  the  Rock  Creek  bot- 
toms to  Skunk  River  I  was  interested  at  once,  for  my  ear 
detected  the  whistle  of  a  bird  with  which  I  was  un- 
acquainted. I  had  no  sooner  noticed  this  than  father  said 
to  mother,  "Hear  that?  "I  believe  that  is  a  southern  red 
bird."  He  stopped  the  team  and  we  listened.  Surely 
enough  we  heard  the  whistle  repeated  and  almost  as  soon 
as  the  song  was  finished  a  streak  of  red  flashed  through 
the  air,  and  a  bright  cardinal-red  bird  alighted  on  a 
"branch  not  far  from  our  horses'  heads.  I  think  I  shall 
always  remember  that  bird  because  I  was  so  impressed 
with  its  beauty.  He  was  a  little  smaller  than  a  blue  jay 
and  almost  a  uniform  shade  of  cardinal  red.  He  ruffled 
up  a  beautiful  topknot,  chirped  at  us  a  time  or  two,  and 
then  began  his  delightful  love  call  again. 

In  about  a  month  I  had  the  good  luck  to  accompany 
father  and  mother  to  Sigourney  again,  and  we  decided  to 
take  the  same  road  and  see  if  we  could  find  this  red  bird's 
nest.  Mother  was  reared  in  the  South  where  cardinals 
are  abundant  and  knew  their  habits  well,  and  father  hav- 

253 


254     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

ing  spent  several  years  in  southwestern  Missouri  was  fairly 
familiar  with  them.  When  we  reached  the  place  where 
we  had  seen  the  bird,  mother  said  "We  ought  to  find  the 
nest  somewhere  about  here  for  from  the  way  that  bird 
was  singing  when  we  passed  before,  I  think  it  likely  that 
he  had  already  started  nest  building  and  they  almost  always 
do  their  singing  near  the  nest."  Before  we  had  time  to  get 
out  of  the  wagon  the  male  cardinal  alighted  in  the  tree 
above  our  heads  and  began  scolding  and  fussing.  Now  we 
felt  sure  the  nest  was  near,  and  surely  enough  it  was  not 
long  until  we  noticed  the  little  reddish  brown  mother  sit- 
ting on  the  nest.  The  nest  was  in  the  branches  of  a  white 
oak  tree  so  near  to  the  road  and  so  low  that  by  standing  up 
on  the  seat  we  were  able  to  look  into  it. 

As  soon  as  the  mother  realized  she  was  seen,  she  left 
the  nest  and  joined  her  husband  in  complaining  at  our 
trespassing.  Nevertheless  we  all  three  had  a  good  look 
at  the  nest  although  we  did  not  go  nearer  than  ten  feet. 
The  eggs  had  already  hatched,  but  the  young  were  evi- 
dently not  over  three  or  four  days  old.  Father  and  mother 
were  as  much  disappointed  in  this  as  I,  for  we  had  planned 
that  if  we  found  birds  old  enough  to  raise  by  hand  we 
would  take  them  for  pets.  Fearing  some  one  might  come 
by  and  see  us  looking  at  the  nest  and  so  learn  of  its  where- 
abouts, we  started  on  as  soon  as  we  heard  an  approaching 
wagon. 

The  nest  was  only  about  four  miles  from  home,  and  we 
determined  to  return  for  the  young  birds  later.  We  did 
not  get  back  for  three  weeks  and  were  again  disappointed, 
for  not  only  were  the  young  birds  gone  but  we  could  not 
find  the  old  ones.  Later  we  learned  that  an  irresponsible 
man  with  his  gun  had  come  along.  There  are  those  who 


THE  CARDINAL  255 

can  not  be  content  to  allow  a  bird  to  live.  Its  very  happi- 
ness seems  to  grate  on  such  souls.  The  more  rare  and 
beautiful  a  bird  is  the  more  determined  they  are  to  kill  it. 
That  was  the  only  wild  cardinal  I  ever  saw  in  Iowa,  though 
once  some  twenty  years  later  I  heard  one  whistle  in  the 
deep  woods.  Now  they  are  more  common  there. 

These  birds  are  found  in  abundance  throughout  the 
South,  as  far  north  as  Ohio,  Indiana  and  Illinois.  They 
are  rare  in  New  York,  Pennsylvania  and  New  England. 
They  range  westward  almost  to  the  Eocky  Mountains,  a  few 
having  been  seen  even  in  Colorado  and  South  Dakota. 
They  are  easily  recognized,  being  our  only  red  bird  with  a 
topknot.  The  female  is  slightly  smaller  than  the  male, 
and  is  of  a  reddish  brown  color.  They  are  grosbeaks,  and 
have  the  stout  beak  of  this  group.  We  have  several  gros- 
beaks, all  having  stout  bills,  broad  and  thick  at  the  base, 
and  of  only  moderate  length.  This  characteristic  is  so  well 
marked  that  if  you  familiarize  yourself  with  one  you 
should  find  it  easy  to  recognize  the  other  members  of  the 
group. 

When  about  fifteen  years  ago  I  moved  to  Tennessee,  I 
found  cardinals  abundant  everywhere  and  have  had  the 
opportunity  to  become  well  acquainted  with  them.  They 
do  not  migrate,  but  stay  all  winter  in  the  vicinity  of  their 
nesting  place.  There  is  no  more  beautiful  sight  than  a 
flock  of  cardinals  on  a  snowy  day.  At  that  time  a  half 
dozen  or  more  are  often  found  together  in  fence  rows  or 
on  the  border  of  woods,  feeding  on  weed  seed  or  buck- 
brush  berries.  Their  brilliant  color  makes  such  a  contrast 
with  the  snow  that  they  can  be  seen  a  long  distance.  At 
no  time  are  they  more  active  or  apparently  more  happy 
than  then. 


256     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

That  is  the  time  to  make  friends  with  them.  A  few 
crumbs  scattered  near  the  door  will  usually  accomplish 
this.  One  winter  we  regularly  threw  the  crumbs  from 
the  table  a  few  feet  from  the  kitchen  door.  It  did  not  take 
long  for  the  birds  to  learn  this,  and  a  pair  of  cardinals  were 
the  most  regular  patrons  of  that  lunch  counter.  Soon 
they  were  waiting  in  the  trees  that  grew  in  the  yard  long 
before  feeding  time  came.  They  did  not  hesitate  to  alight 
on  the  railing  of  the  porch  and  peep  in  at  the  window  if 
the  crumbs  did  not  arrive  when  they  thought  they  should. 
Finally  they  took  up  their  abode  in  our  yard  and  nested  in 
a  cedar  tree.  Cardinals  prefer  to  nest  in  such  well  con- 
cealed places,  for  then  the  mother  bird  is  hard  to  see  when 
on  the  nest. 

The  male  cardinal  assisted  in  building  the  nest,  but  then 
his  work  was  done  until  the  young  were  hatched.  The 
males  of  many  birds  divide  with  their  mates  the  tedious 
work  of  sitting,  but  not  so  the  cardinal.  The  female  car- 
dinal may  feel  very  proud  of  her  gorgeous  colored  lord,  but 
the  labor  of  doing  all  the  sitting  is  the  price  she  must 
pay  for  this  luxury.  Her  lord  is  so  brilliantly  colored 
that  neither  he  nor  the  nest  would  be  safe  were  he  to  sit. 
He  does  his  best  to  make  up  for  this,  however,  by  singing 
and  whistling  by  the  hour  in  some  nearby  tree  to  entertain 
his  wife.  He  is  no  flirt,  neither  will  he  tolerate  the  pres- 
ence of  a  rival  in  what  he  regards  as  his  domain.  Should 
another  female  cardinal  come  near  his  nest,  he  pays  not  the 
least  attention  to  her;  but  should  a  male  come,  he  attacks 
him  fiercely  and  drives  him  from  the  vicinity. 

The  cardinal  lays  three,  four,  or  five  eggs  that  vary  some- 
what in  color  from  gray  to  clear  white.  Ordinarily  they 
raise  two  broods  in  a  year.  The  male  is  active  feeding 


THE  CARDINAL  257 

the  young  and  attends  to  their  training  when  they  are 
able  to  fly. 

There  is  no  bird  with  which  it  is  easier  to  make  friends 
than  with  the  cardinal.  I  have  a  friend  who  without 
thought  began  throwing  crumbs  from  the  table  into  the 
yard  near  the  house.  In  a  few  days  the  cardinals  were 
feeding  there  and  of  their  own  will  almost  immediately 
formed  the  habit  of  alighting  on  the  window  sill  to  beg  for 
crumbs.  Undoubtedly  seeing  his  reflection  in  the  glass, 
the  male  cardinal  first  began  pecking  at  the  window  think- 
ing he  was  fighting  another  bird,  but  as  this  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  family  who  thought  that  he  was  asking  for 
food  and  provided  it,  he  soon  learned  to  come  to  peck  at 
this  window  till  he  was  fed.  When  insects  and  berries 
became  plentiful,  however,  he  stopped  coming,  though  he 
continued  to  be  very  tame  and  played  about  on  the  prem- 
ises a  good  deal. 


XXXVIII 

THE  INDIGO  BUNTING 

ONE  spring  as  I  was  playing  in  the  grove  I  heard 
a  strange  chirp  and  looking  up  into  a  tree  saw  a 
new  bird,  a  slender  little  fellow  about  the  size  of  a  vireo. 
This  bird  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  deep  blue  green,  tho 
other  people  insist  that  his  color  is  not  green  but  blue.  I 
was  much  interested  in  the  little  stranger  because  I  had 
never  heard  of  a  green  bird,  so  I  promptly  named  it  "the 
green  bird."  I  went  to  the  house  and  persuaded  both 
father  and  mother  to  come  and  see  my  find.  We  were  not 
long  in  locating  it  among  the  branches,  but  neither  of 
them  had  ever  seen  it  in  our  woods  before.  They  agreed, 
however,  that  he  must  be  an  indigo  bunting  or,  as  a  friend 
a  little  later  told  me,  an  indigo  finch.  In  fact,  they  had 
both  known  him  elsewhere.  Now-a-days  we  call  this  bird 
the  "indigo  bunting.3' 

Evidently  these  birds  were  strangers  in  our  neighbor- 
hood, for  many  neighbor  boys  reported  a  new  bird  at  about 
the  time  I  saw  mine  and  they  all  said  it  was  a  little  green 
bird.  They  became  abundant  that  spring  and  ever  after 
were  among  the  regular  inhabitants  of  our  grove.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  understand  why  birds  that  have  not 
been  in  the  habit  of  living  in  a  certain  locality  will  on  a 
sudden  move  in  in  large  numbers;  but  clearly  that  was 

258 


THE  INDIGO  BUNTING  25Q 

the  case  with  the  indigo  bunting,  and  from  that  day 
forward  as  long  as  I  lived  in  Southeastern  Iowa  it  was 
abundant. 

This  bird  is  not  much  of  a  songster.  In  fact,  we  never 
considered  him  a  song  bird  at  all,  but  we  liked  to  see  him 
flit  back  and  forth  among  the  trees  because  of  his  bril- 
liant color.  Because  of  his  color  and  shape  he  could  hardly 
be  mistaken  for  any  other  bird.  He  is  much  more  slender 
than  the\  bluebird  and  has  no  red  on  the  breast  These 
birds  vary  more  or  less  in  color,  some  being  more  nearly 
green,  others  more  nearly  blue.  In  the  picture  you  will 
see  a  good  representation  of  these  birds,  so  a  careful  de- 
scription of  their  appearance  is  hardly  necessary.  Yon 
will  have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  them  after  you  have 
looked  at  the  picture  carefully. 

They  prefer  to  live  in  the  open  places  in  forests,  and 
on  the  borders  of  woods  rather  than  in  the  deep  forest  it- 
self, tho  I  have  frequently  seen  them  in  the  deepest  woods. 
They  feed  largely  on  insects  and  are  desirable  birds  to 
have  about. 

The  nest  is  usually  built  of  leaves  and  coarse  grass,  well 
lined  with  fine  roots  and  fibers  of  bark,  and  the  iaside  is 
nicely  finished  with  hairs.  The  birds  lay  three  or  four 
white  eggs  and  usually  raise  two  broods  in  a  year.  Yon 
will  generally  find  the  nest  in  a  tangle  of  brush  or  on  the 
branches  of  low  growing  trees,  seldom  more  than  four  or 
five  feet  from  the  ground  and  completely  sheltered  by  a 
canopy  of  leaves. 

We  have  quite  a  number  of  buntings  in  this  country,  all 
delightful  little  creatures,  feeding  largely  on  insects  and 
weed  seeds  or  wild  berries,  and  most  of  them  are  bright 
colored.  We  like  to  see  brilliant  colors  in  birds  almost 


250    KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

as  well  as  in  flowers.    Consequently  any  bird  that  shows  & 
brilliant  color  is  especially  welcome. 

The  indigo  bunting  is  more  widely  distributed  than 
the  other  varieties,  and  is  eo  conspicuously  colored  that 
it  seemed  the  easiest  one  for  you  to  learn  to  identify.  After 
you  have  become  acquainted  with  it,  you  will  the  more 
easily  recognize  the  others, 


PAIR  OF  INDIGO  BUNTINGS 
Upper  Bird— Male        Lower  Bird -Female 


XXXIX 

THE  SUMMER  TANAGER 

WHEN  I  moved  to  Tennessee  one  of  the  first  things  I 
did  was  to  visit  an  old  friend  who  had  moved  into 
the  hill  district  of  Tennessee,  purchased  land,  and  was 
conducting  a  rural  school.  He  was  working  on  the  unique 
basis  of  earning  his  living  from  the  soil  and  inviting  the 
neighbors'  children  who  had  no  good  opportunity  for  edu- 
cation to  come  to  his  school  without  money  and  without 
price. 

As  one  means  of  earning  a  livelihood  he  had  two  or 
three  swarms  of  bees.  Knowing  that  I  had  been  interested 
in  bees  most  of  my  life,  he  invited  me  to  examine  them, 
stating  that  they  were  not  doing  well.  We  went  out  and 
looked  through  his  hives  and  surely  enough  I  found  all 
the  swarms  weak,  yet  I  saw  no  evidence  of  disease.  I  could 
not  understand  this,  because  there  were  plenty  of  flowers 
near  by  and  I  could  see  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
be  strong  and  gathering  an  abundance  of  honey.  I  ex- 
amined the  hives  for  moths  but  there  were  none.  I  was 
at  loss  to  understand  the  situation,  so  we  sat  down  on  a 
.log  near  the  bees  to  discuss  the  matter. 

We  had  not  been  there  long  before  I  saw  a  beautiful 
red  bird  of  a  variety  I  had  never  known  light  on  a  twig 
near  .the  bees,  and  while  I  was  trying  to  decide  whether  it 

261 


262     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

were  a  summer  tanager,  a  bird  of  which  I  had  heard 
much  but  had  never  seen,  it  flew  in  front  of  one  of  the 
hives,  caught  a  bee  and  again  lighted  on  its  twig.  In  a 
moment  it  repeated  this  maneuver  and  within  a  few  min- 
utes it  caught  fifteen  or  twenty  bees,  quite  enough  I  should 
think  for  a  good  meal  for  any  bird  of  its  size.  It  had 
hardly  left  before  its  mate,  a  beautiful  reddish  brown 
bird,  took  its  place  and  remained  until  she  had  satisfied 
her  appetite  on  bees. 

This  was  a  surprize  to  both  of  us  because,  while  we 
knew  that  these  birds  feed  on  insects,  we  had  never  known 
that  they  catch  bees.  We  continued  to  watch  the  bees 
from  time  to  time  during  the  day  and  there  was  a  summer 
tanager  there  almost  half  the  time.  Of  course  this  ex- 
plained at  once  why  the  bees  were  not  doing  well. 

We  did  not  know  how  many  birds  were  feeding  there,  but 
it  was  evident  that  there  were  more  than  two,  for  no  two 
birds  could  possibly  eat  so  many  bees  as  we  saw  caught  that 
day.  After  watching  them  for  a  week,  my  friend,  himself 
something  of  a  naturalist  and  a  great  lover  of  birds,  de- 
cided he  would  have  to  do  a  distasteful  thing  in  self -pro- 
tection, so  he  took  his  gun  and  began  shooting  tanagers. 
The  first  day,  he  killed  eight  of  these  birds  feeding  on  his 
bees.  Within  a  few  days  the  bees  began  to  grow  strong, 
showing  that  this  had  been  their  only  trouble;  and  as  he 
had  killed  all  the  summer  tanagers  near  by,  he  had  no 
more  trouble. 

Lest  my  readers  should  think  this  habit  of  catching 
bees  is  common  to  these  birds  I  wish  to  say  that  the  event 
occurred  more  than  twelve  years  ago  and  I  have  kept 
bees  ever  since  and  so  has  my  friend.  Summer  tanagers 
are  so  numerous  that  seldom  a  day  passes  without  seeing 


THE  SUMMER  TANAGER  265 

several  of  them,  but  I  have  known  but  one  other  pair  of 
these  birds  to  bother  bees. 

Two  summers  ago  a  pair  of  tanagers  made  up  their 
minds  that  the  easiest  way  to  make  a  living  was  to  catch 
bees  from  my  apiary.  There  were  some  sixteen  or  eighteen 
strong  swarms  of  bees  and  as  there  was  only  one  pair  of 
tanagers  making  trouble,  I  decided  to  let  them  alone.  I 
feared  that  when  their  young  were  able  to  fly  they  might 
train  them  to  catch  bees  also,  but  made  up  my  mind  that 
when  this  occurred  would  be  time  enough  to  take  drastic 
action.  Those  birds  fed  on  bees  regularly  for  perhaps  two 
weeks  and  then  began  to  come  less  frequently.  Within 
another  two  weeks,  while  they  were  often  to  be  seen  flit- 
ting about  in  the  trees  near  the  apiary,  they  apparently 
entirely  ceased  catching  bees.  I  never  learned  whether 
they  tired  of  bees  as  food  or  whether  they  had  been  catch- 
ing them  in  an  emergency  when  other  food  was  scarce. 

The  summer  tanager  is  common  over  most  of  the 
Southern  part  of  the  United  States,  and  is  found  in  fewer 
numbers  north  of  the  Ohio  river  as  well.  They  are  easily- 
recognized,  as  the  male  is  practically  red  all  over  and 
has  no  crest  or  topknot.  The  only  other  all  red  bird  we 
have  is  the  cardinal  grosbeak,  and  he  not  only  has  a  very 
conspicuous  topknot  but  is  larger  than  the  summer 
tanager.  The  only  red  bird  that  could  in  any  way  be 
mistaken  for  the  bird  we  are  studying  is  his  cousin  the 
scarlet  tanager,  the  most  brilliant  bird  in  the  American 
woods.  The  scarlet  tanager  is  a  more  fiery  red,  and  has 
jet  black  wings  and  tail. 

The  tanagers  are  slender  birds,  not  much  larger  than 
a  kingbird  or  a  phoebe.  They  all  feed  largely  on  insects, 
as  can  be  inferred  from  my  story.  The  summer  tanager 


264     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

feeds  largely  on  beetles,  caught  on  the  wing  or  in  trees.  In 
fact,  it  seldom  alights  on  the  ground,  tho  I  have  seen  it 
do  so.  It  eats  beetles  so  large  that  it  seems  impossible  for 
it  to  swallow  them.  After  these  insects  are  digested  the 
indigestible  feet,  legs,  and  shells  are  rolled  into  a  ball  by 
the  bird's  stomach  and  disgorged. 

This  bird  can  be  heard  uttering  an  unmusical  "chickey- 
chucker-chuck"  from  time  to  time  as  it  flits  among  the 
branches.  In  mating  time,  however,  it  sings  freely  early 
in  the  morning — the  song  resembling  that  of  a  vireo,  only 
sweeter. 

The  summer  tanager  keeps  itself  well  hidden  in  the  tops 
of  trees,  and  for  this  reason  it  seems  strange  that  it 
usually  nests  on  a  horizontal  limb  seldom  as  much  as  twenty 
feet  high  and  often  so  low  that  one  can  look  into  the  nest 
from  the  ground.  This  nest  is  built  of  dry  weeds,  etc., 
bound  together  by  dry  grass  and  is  so  poorly  fastened  to 
the  limb  and  so  shiftlessly  put  together  that  a  high  wind 
often  shakes  it  to  the  ground. 

The  three  to  five  light  blue  eggs  are  brooded  by  both 
parents — twelve  days  are  required  for  them  to  hatch. 
When  the  young  are  old  enough  to  fly,  the  parents  do  not 
attempt  to  rear  another  brood  but  lead  the  young  through 
the  woods  for  a  while  and  in  the  fall  they  all  go  south 
together.  The  young  look  much  like  the  mother,  but  can 
be  recognized  by  their  hunger  call — such  a  forlorn,  pained 
tone  as  to  touch  even  the  hardest  heart.  Evidently  they 
succeed  in  touching  the  parents'  hearts,  for  the  young  are 
fed  for  two  or  three  weeks  after  they  are  able  to  fly. 


XL' 

FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING 

IN  the  story  of  Jerry,  the  kingbird,  I  told  you  of  two 
purple  martins  that  caused  the  death  of  Jerry.  I  think 
I  told  you  that  they  left  us,  but  I  did  not  tell  you  what 
became  of  them.  But  before  I  give  you  their  story  let 
me  tell  you  something  about  their  family. 

Martins  are  the  largest  of  our  swallows.  Swallows 
are  moderately  small  birds  with  long,  powerful  wings, 
and  are  among  our  most  rapid  flyers.  When  on  the 
wing  they  resemble  chimney  swifts,  tho  they  have  differ- 
ently formed  feet  and  legs,  and  often  alight  on  dead 
trees  or  other  convenient  resting  places.  They  have  large 
mouths  as,  indeed  they  must  have,  for  they  catch  their 
living  in  the  air. 

Among  the  most  common  varieties  are  the  cliff  swal- 
lows that  plaster  their  mud  nests  against  the  side  of  cliffs 
in  the  mountain  country,  or  under  the  eaves  of  the  barns; 
the  bank  swallows  that  burrow  in  the  mud  banks  of  our 
midwestern  streams ;  the  barn  swallows  which  plaster  their 
mud  nests  inside  our  barns,  and  the  purple  martin,  which 
has  become  almost  dependent  on  man  for  its  nesting  place. 
Flygood  and  his  wife  Fleetwing,  who  attempted  to  live  in 
my  martin  box,  were  purple  martins. 

After  being  convinced  that  they  could  not  live  with  me 

265 


266     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

they  went  to  our  nearest  neighbor,  only  about  two  hun- 
dred yards  from  our  house,  and  took  possession  of  a  new 
martin  house  that  had  just  been  put  up.  I  became  well 
acquainted  with  them,  for  seldom  a  day  passed  that  I  was 
not  at  this  neighbor's  from  one  to  half  a  dozen  times. 
The  martin  house  was  a  two-roomed  apartment,  and  of 
course  Flygood  and  his  wife  needed  only  one.  Contrary  to 
the  habits  of  the  race,  they  did  not  invite  any  of  their 
friends  from  neighboring  colonies  to  move  in  and  live  next 
door;  or  if  they  did  the  invitation  was  not  accepted.  Never- 
theless, this  pair  of  martins  set  up  housekeeping  in  one 
apartment  of  the  house  and  immediately  began  carrying 
straw  and  grass  to  build  a  nest. 

A  pair  of  bluebirds  had  had  their  eyes  on  this  house 
for  some  days  and  were  highly  displeased  when  the  martins 
moved  in.  I  do  not  know  why  these  bluebirds  had  not 
already  taken  possession.  They  come  north  at  least  a 
month  earlier  than  the  martins,  and  ordinarily  would  have 
had  eggs  or  even  young  birds  by  the  time  the  martins  ar- 
rived. I  do  know  that  they  had  been  visiting  this  house 
and  twittering  and  making  a  great  demonstration  over  it 
for  two  or  three  days.  There  were  three  or  four  families 
of  bluebirds  living  within  a  hundred  yards  of  this  par- 
ticular house.  No  sooner  had  the  martins  entered  the 
house  than  the  bluebirds  attacked  them.  One  pair  of  blue- 
birds is  not  able  to  drive  away  a  pair  of  martins,  but  no 
sooner  had  the  war  begun  than  the  other  bluebirds  in 
the  neighborhood  came  to  assist.  Flygood  and  Fleetwing 
held  a  twittering  conversation,  as  if  trying  to  decide 
what  to  do.  They  had  been  driven  from  our  house  and  it 
seemed  that  they  might  have  the  same  experience  here. 
But  they  were  not  minded  to  give  up  so  desirable  an  apart- 


FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING  267 

ment  without  a  struggle.  Evidently  it  was  settled  between 
them  that  Flygood  should  remain  and  hold  possession  of 
the  disputed  home  while  Fleetwing  went  for  help.  Flygood 
flew  back  to  the  house,  chased  the  bluebirds  out  and  then, 
sitting  with  his  head  and  shoulders  in  the  entrance,  gave 
battle  to  all  comers.  Fleetwing  rose  in  quick  circles  and 
started  to  Lemley's,  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away, 
and  inside  of  ten  minutes  was  back  accompanied  by  a 
dozen  or  more  martins  that  she  had  brought  to  help. 

It  took  only  an  hour  or  two  of  real  battle  between  the 
martins  and  the  bluebirds  before  the  latter  gave  up  the 
struggle,  and  the  martins  slept  in  the  house  that  night.  As 
soon  as  the  matter  was  settled  the  visiting  martins  left 
and,  so  far  as  I  know,  never  again  paid  a  visit  to  their 
friends. 

This  impressed  me  very  much.  Evidently  these  birds 
not  only  knew  that  others  of  their  kind  lived  at  Lemley's, 
but  they  were  able  to  tell  them  their  troubles  in  a  way  to 
convince  their  neighbors  that  the  proper  thing  was  to  come 
over  and  help. 

It  was  late  by  the  time  these  birds  took  possession  of 
this  house.  Their  neighbors  had  already  begun  to  lay 
eggs.  I  presume  that  explains  the  fact  that  they  carried 
only  a  small  amount  of  straw  and  made  the  poorest  excuse 
for  a  nest  I  have  ever  known  martins  to  build.  There  was 
enough  straw  to  keep  the  eggs  from  rolling  about,  but  that 
was  all. 

These  martins  were  friendly  fellows  and  did  not  take 
offense  when  their  human  friends  peeped  into  their  home. 
Their  house  was  on  a  pole  only  twelve  or  fourteen  feet 
high  and  it  was  easy  to  place  a  ladder  against  the  pole  and 
see  what  was  going  on  inside.  The  second  day  after  these 


268     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

birds  took  possession  of  the  house  hy  noon  there  was  a 
creamy  white  egg  inside.  In  three  days  there  were  three 
more  eggs,  and  then  the  mother  bird  started  sitting,  but 
troubles  were  not  over. 

A  pair  of  English  sparrows,  among  the  very  first  ever 
seen  in  our  neighborhood,  decided  that  this  martin  box 
had  been  constructed  especially  for  them.  English  spar- 
rows appear  to  have  no  conscience.  No  matter  how  far 
the  nesting  operations  of  other  birds  have  gone,  if  they 
decide  that  a  nesting  site  is  desirable  they  immediately 
eet  about  to  take  possession. 

These  martins  were  busy  catching  insects  when  these 
eparrows  arrived,  entered,  and  decided  that  the  location 
was  ideal.  To  be  satisfied  of  this  meant  to  act,  so  these 
busybodies  began  to  throw  on  the  ground  the  few  straws 
the  Martins  had  placed  in  the  box.  Nor  was  this  all.  A 
sparrow  had  just  come  to  the  door  with  one  of  the  precious 
eggs  in  her  mouth  when  Flygood  circled  near  enough  the 
house  to  see  what  was  going  on.  With  a  chatter  of  anger, 
he  flew  like  a  bolt  to  the  nest  hole,  entered,  and  catching 
the  sparrow  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  backed  out  of  the  door 
and  shaking  her  angrily,  flung  her  to  the  ground.  By  this 
time  his  mate  arrived  and  joined  in  the  melee.  The  spar- 
row which  had  been  so  peremptorily  thrown  out  was  not 
hurt  in  the  least  but  merely  infuriated.  For  some  time 
there  was  a  battle  on  and  about  this  martin  house;  but  in 
spite  of  all  her  pernicious  ways,  the  sparrow  is  no  match 
for  the  martin  when  numbers  are  nearly  even.  The  spar- 
rows had  to  leave  the  martin  box,  and  they  took  up  their 
abode  in  the  wind-mill  tower  nearby. 

The  martin  is  a  strong  fighter,  but  he  is  not  spiteful. 
When  the  matter  of  possession  of  the  nest  box  was  settled, 


FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING      269 

they  paid  no  further  attention  to  the  sparrows.  But  Eng- 
lish sparrows  are  mean-spirited  and  carry  a  grudge.  FOP 
weeks  these  sparrows  lost  no  opportunity  to  slip  into  the 
martin  box  and  commit  any  depredation  they  could.  Thii 
made  life  strenuous  for  the  martins.  Flygood  did  not 
attempt  to  help  hrood  the  eggs,  but  perched  on  the  martin 
box  much  of  the  time  watching  for  the  sparrows.  Half  a 
dozen  times  a  day  it  was  necessary  for  Flygood  to  chase 
them  away.  He  sometimes  left  long  enough  to  secure  food, 
and  he  even  carried  food  to  his  mate  at  times;  but  usually 
she  left  the  nest  and  went  for  food  on  her  own  account.  At 
these  times  Flygood  never  left  the  precious  nest  more  than  a 
few  feet.  Even  then  he  often  had  to  use  strenuous  efforts 
to  protect  the  nest.  While  ordinarily  only  the  female 
sparrow  came  to  the  martin  house,  one  day  when  the 
mother  martin  was  away  bathing  or  gathering  food  the 
male  sparrow  came  and  drew  Flygood  away  in  pursuit 
while  his  wife  slipped  into  the  nest.  She  threw  another 
egg  out  of  the  nest  only  a  day  or  two  before  it  would  have 
hatched.  These  sparrows  were  not  now  fighting  for  a  nest- 
ing place.  They  had  a  nest  and  eggs  of  their  own.  What 
they  did  was  done  apparently  out  of  mean-spirited  spite. 

After  that  day's  experience  the  martins  kept  more  care- 
ful watch  than  ever  over  the  house.  The  experience  of 
having  the  female  sparrow  break  an  egg  while  he  chased  her 
husband  taught  Flygood  a  lesson.  Now  he  never  chased  a 
sparrow  more  than  a  few  feet  before  he  returned  to  the 
house  to  make  sure  that  its  mate  had  not  slipped  in  during 
his  absence. 

When  the  young  hatched,  new  difficulties  presented 
themselves,  for  they  must  be  fed  at  all  hazards,  since  star- 
vation was  even  more  to  be  dreaded  than  sparrows.  Per- 


270     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

haps  it  was  fortunate  after  all  that  two  of  the  eggs  had 
been  broken,  for  now  there  were  only  two  baby  mouths  to 
fill,  and  it  seems  that  young  martins  are  all  appetite.  No 
matter  how  often  they  are  fed,  they  are  always  ready  for 
more;  and  in  spite  of  all  the  parents  could  do,  those 
babies  were  always  ready  to  accept  hard  boiled  egg  or 
small  grasshoppers  at  my  hand.  By  the  time  they  were 
a  week  old,  they  were  too  large  for  the  sparrows  to  injure, 
and  both  martins  and  sparrows  seemed  to  recognize  this. 
So  both  parents  were  free  to  hunt,  and  it  was  only  a  few 
days  till  both  seemed  to  show  more  vigor  of  flight  than 
when  they  were  living  the  strenuous  life  necessary  to  safe- 
guard the  home. 

The  old  spotted  cat  which,  like  most  of  her  tribe,  some- 
times caught  birds,  but  seemed  to  be  particularly  for- 
tunate in  catching  only  those  I  was  glad  to  see  destroyed, 
went  down  to  the  neighbor's,  climbed  the  wind-mill  tower 
and  caught  the  sparrow  on  her  nest.  She  not  only  made 
quick  work  of  the  mother,  but  devoured  the  five  young 
birds  as  well;  and  this  ended  the  martins'  trouble  from 
that  source. 

Not  only  had  the  martins  guarded  their  nest  against 
the  sparrows,  but  they  were  almost  as  active  as  Jerry  the 
kingbird  in  chasing  and  keeping  hawks  and  crows  from 
their  neighborhood.  Because  the  martins  are  such  fighters 
they  were  favorites  with  our  American  Indians.  Before 
the  white  man  came  to  our  shores,  these  people  made  it  a 
practise  to  cut  holes  in  the  side  of  large  gourds  and  hang 
them  in  the  trees  near  their  village  to  attract  the  martins. 
The  birds  in  turn  protected  from  buzzards  and  hawks  the 
deer  skins  and  other  pelts  which  were  stretched  on  the 
trees  near  the  Indian  camp  during  the  tanning  process. 


FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING      271 

Probably  the  early  settlers  got  the  idea  of  building  mar- 
tin houses  from  the  Indians.  Whether  this  is  true  or  not, 
a  colony  of  purple  martins  living  in  a  yard  is  a  more  effec- 
tive protection  against  hawks  than  half  a  dozen  shotguns; 
for  man  is  usually  either  too  busy  or  too  stupid  to  see  a 
hawk  when  it  comes,  but  these  sharp-eyed  birds  are  always 
on  guard,  and  seldom  indeed  can  a  hawk  slip  into  the 
yard  and  catch  a  chicken  while  these  birds  are  about. 

The  young  birds  had  been  out  of  the  nest  at  least  two 
weeks  before  the  old  birds  ceased  feeding  them.  Even 
then  they  slept  in  the  home  nest  every  night. 

The  mother  bird  laid  five  more  eggs  as  soon  as  these 
youngsters  could  fly  and  their  sleeping  in  the  nest  never 
seemed  to  concern  her  in  the  least.  Doubtless  they  were 
careful  not  to  break  the  eggs  or  to  injure  their  younger 
brothers  and  sisters  when  they  hatched.  They  occasionally 
entered  the  box  in  the  day  time,  but  I  question  whether 
they  fed  their  young  brothers  and  sisters.  With  many  birds 
one  could  easily  have  settled  this  matter  by  watching,  for 
had  they  done  so  they  would  have  carried  the  food  in  their 
bills ;  but  martins  swallow  their  prey  and  then  thrust  their 
bills  down  the  young  bird's  throat  and  there  disgorge  the 
partially  digested  food.  The  feeding  always  occurs  inside 
the  house,  so  mere  man  cannot  tell  whether  a  bird  that 
enters  the  box  feeds  the  young  or  not. 

When  the  second  brood  of  young  were  able  to  fly,  a  third 
clutch  of  four  eggs  was  laid.  By  this  time  sleeping  quar- 
ters were  crowded  at  night,  for  the  five  eggs  of  the  second 
clutch  all  matured  into  fully-grown  birds.  All  seven  of 
the  young  birds  crowded  into  the  nest  every  evening, 
but  their  parents  slept  next  door.  It  would  have  seemed 
more  in  keeping  with  our  ideas  to  send  the  older  children 


272     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

next  door  to  sleep ;  but  I  have  no  disposition  to  criticize  the 
^housekeeping  methods  of  my  little  neighbors,  especially  as 
every  one  of  the  third  clutch  of  eggs  hatched  and  all  lived 
I  to  maturity.  By  the  first  of  August  there  were  thirteen 
martins  living  in  this  house.  With  no  family  cares,  they 
now  roamed  over  orchard  and  meadow,  sometimes  flying 
:  as  far  as  the  neighbors  which  had  rendered  them  such 
valiant  assistance  in  the  spring. 

Toward  fall  the  weather  became  dry  and  the  only  con- 
venient watering  place  was  the  brook  near  our  grapevine 
playhouse.  There  these  birds  came  several  times  every 
day  for  a  drink  or  a  bath.  A  thirsty  martin  would  circle 
back  and  forth  near  the  surface  of  the  water,  every  few 
moments  dipping  her  open  bill  into  the  water  and  scooping 
up  a  mouthful.  In  bathing,  they  fly  close  to  the  surface 
of  the  water  and  then  dive,  and,  coming  up  again,  con- 
tinue their  flight  almost  without  checking  speed.  Round 
and  round  they  circle,  dipping  and  splashing  for  an  hour 
at  a  time,  probably  getting  the  water  to  the  skin  in  places ; 
but  I  have  never  seen  them  become  thoroughly  soaked,  as 
most  birds  do  while  bathing. 

When  the  last  of  August  came  and  frost  might  be  ex- 
pected soon,  they  changed  their  habits.  They  would  sit 
for  hours  on  the  comb  of  the  house  or  the  limbs  of  an  old 
dead  tree,  chattering  and  preening  their  feathers.  Un- 
doubtedly birds  find  it  necessary  to  have  their  bodies  in 
good  condition  before  they  start  southward.  At  any  rate, 
every  feather  was  oiled  and  preened  a  hundred  times  dur- 
ing the  ten  days'  gathering  preceding  their  departure.  Al- 
most every  evening  the  birds  would  fly  to  the  similar 
council  that  was  being  held  in  the  neighbor's  orchard  a 
half  mile  away,  tho  they  never  remained  long  at  a  time. 
Two  or  three  days  before  leaving  they  began  to  act 


FLYGOOD  AND  FLEETWING      273 

strangely.  All  would  be  sitting  in  the  gathering  chirping 
and  preening  their  feathers  when  suddenly  one  would  utter 
a  peculiar  twitter  and  instantly  every  bird  would  leave 
its  perch  and  start  rapidly  southward;  but  after  flying  a 
hundred  or  two  yards  one  always  heard  the  rallying  chatter 
and  all  returned  to  the  gathering  place  again. 

It  would  be  interesting  indeed  to  know  all  that  went  on 
in  those  days  preceding  the  journey  south.  Some  people 
believe  the  parents  were  instructing  their  young  in  the 
maneuver  of  starting  together  and  keeping  together  in  the 
long  flight. 

At  that  time  they  never  went  near  the  martin  house 
except  to  sleep.  Undoubtedly  there  was  more  or  less  ver- 
min there  and  these  wise  birds  meant  to  get  their  bodies 
entirely  clean  from  troublesome  pests  before  going  to  the 
warm  tropical  regions  where  the  vermin  would  cause  an- 
noyance all  winter  through.  Half  or  three  quarters  of 
an  hour  before  sundown  these  birds  would  leave  their 
perch  and  begin  circling  round  the  old  nest  every  few  mo- 
ments, twittering  as  they  went,  then  circle  back  over  the 
orchard  or  meadow  for  more  insects.  Shortly  after  sun- 
down these  circles  would  grow  smaller  and  finally  some 
bird  would  enter  the  house.  The  next  time  they  came  by 
perhaps  another  would  do  the  same.  Then  within  a  few 
moments  every  bird  would  dart  inside  and  things  would 
become  quiet  for  the  night. 

Early  one  morning  this  flock  of  birds  was  holding  its 
gathering  in  an  old  apple  tree  in  our  orchard  perhaps  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  nest.  Suddenly  the  parent  birds 
gave  the  signal  which  to  my  ears  sounded  exactly  like  the 
signal  they  had  been  giving  a  score  of  times  each  day  for 
a  week,  and  the  whole  flock  started  toward  the  south;  but 
this  time  they  did  not  return.  They  had  not  gone  very 


274     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

far  before  I  was  convinced  that  they  had  really  started 
southwards,  for  I  did  not  hear  the  return  signal  and  not 
one  bird  showed  the  least  disposition  to  circle  or  look 
back.  Gazing  after  them,  I  saw  them  meet  the  much 
larger  flock  from  Lemley's  and  all  passed  out  of  sight 
over  the  southern  horizon. 

These  birds  sometimes  gather  in  large  flocks  for  the 
journey.  Often  all  the  purple  martins  within  miles  meet 
at  a  common  point,  and  together  take  their  flight.  The 
departure  is  always  in  the  morning  and,  as  far  as  my 
observation  goes,  before  ten  o'clock. 

Some  naturalists  claim  that  a  few  sentinels  return  to 
the  northland  as  early  as  the  middle  of  March  to  spy  out 
the  land  and  see  if  the  old  nesting  places  are  in  order.  In 
the  southern  part  of  the  United  States  they  are  sometimes 
seen  in  flocks  of  tens  of  thousands  on  the  northward  jour- 
ney. At  that  time  they  move  leisurely;  but  when  spring 
really  comes  in  the  north  they  usually  appear  at  practically 
the  same  time  over  a  considerable  area  of  territory  and 
begin  nest  building  at  once. 

If  there  are  martins  in  your  vicinity  and  you  will  con- 
struct a  proper  house  and  mount  it  on  a  pole  the  day  the 
martins  return  to  your  neighborhood,  you  will  very  likely 
find  it  inhabited  within  three  or  four  days.  Should  you 
put  it  up  earlier  than  this,  bluebirds  are  likely  to  take 
possession  of  it  before  the  martins  come;  once  they  are 
in  possession,  the  martins  are  not  very  likely  to  drive  them 
away.  No  bird  is  of  more  value  to  us  human  folks  than 
martins,  not  only  because  they  drive  away  crows  and 
hawks,  but  because  they  feed  largely  on  flies,  ants,  and 
other  injurious  insects. 

Watch  for  the  martins  and  learn  to  recognize  them. 


XLI 

THE  CEDAR  WAXWING 

ONE  day  early  in  spring  my  sister  and  I  were  in  the 
woods  hunting  for  the  first  bloodroot  and  anemone 
blossoms  when  we  heard  a  "twee  twee"  among  the  bushes. 
Looking  around  we  saw  a  flock  of  a  dozen  or  more  beauti- 
ful little  birds  feeding  on  buck-brush  berries. 

I  had  never  known  anything  to  eat  these  berries  and 
of  course  was  surprized  to  see  these  birds  feeding  as 
merrily  as  if  at  the  banquet  of  a  king.  There  is  one 
thing  I  admire  about  birds.  Tho  a  certain  article  of  food 
may  not  be  to  their  liking,  if  circumstances  force  them  to 
eat  it  they  feed  as  cheerily  as  if  eating  the  fat  of  the  land. 

The  thing  that  impressed  me  about  these  birds  was  the 
beautiful  crest  or  topknot,  as  we  call  it.  The  head,  neck, 
and  breast  were  a  beautiful  brown  color,  and  when  they 
raised  their  crest  it  reflected  a  beautiful  purplish  sheen. 
The  body  was  olive-gray  shading  to  ash  color  on  the  rump 
and  to  yellow  underneath,  the  tail  coverts  shading  to  a 
blackish  color  in  the  tail  itself,  which  was  tipped  with 
yellow.  The  wings,  especially  when  spread  for  flight, 
showed  sealing-wax  red  tips  to  the  feathers. 

They  did  not  swallow  the  berries  whole,  as  I  had  ex- 
pected, but  cracked  the  seed  with  their  strong  beaks  and 
ate  only  the  kernels.  These  were  so  small  that  it  was  no 

275 


276     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

wonder  they  had  to  keep  busy  in  order  to  secure  a  good 
meal.  Occasionally  one  would  find  a  grub  or  an  insect 
which  he  ate  greedily. 

Fortunately  my  sister  knew  these  birds.  They  were 
cedar  waxwings.  She  said  that  they  feed  on  cedar  berries, 
especially  in  the  winter.  I  have  seen  them  doing  this 
many  a  time  since. 

As  we  watched  these  birds,  a  swarm  of  mosquitoes  came 
dancing  through  the  air  and  immediately  these  birds  be- 
gan catching  them.  Flying  back  and  forth  through  the 
swarm  they  followed  it  until  it  passed  into  the  bushes 
where  the  members  of  the  swarm  could  not  be  easily  caught. 
I  came  to  know  these  birds  well  in  later  days,  and  there  is 
no  bird  with  which  I  am  acquainted  that  is  more  active 
in  catching  flies,  gnats,  and  other  flying  insects  than  the 
cedar  waxwing. 

When  the  crane  flies  emerge  from  the  meadows  in  the 
springtime,  these  waxwings  catch  them  by  the  hundreds. 
In  his  notes  on  birds  of  Minnesota  Dr.  Hatch  quotes  a  Mr. 
Washburn  as  stating  that  one  day  in  August  in  the  Red 
River  Valley  of  Minnesota  he  watched  a  half  dozen  cedar 
waxwings  hovering  over  a  slough  and  catching  insects. 
He  states  that  these  birds  were  on  the  wing  constantly 
for  almost  half  an  hour  passing  back  and  forth  among 
the  insects  which  they  caught  steadily.  He  says  that  not 
once  during  all  this  time  did  one  of  these  birds  alight  and 
for  the  most  part  they  were  so  busy  that  they  did  not  even 
take  time  to  utter  their  characteristic  notes. 

When  our  cherries  were  ripe  I  saw  my  first  dead  wax- 
wing.  We  had  a  number  of  cherry  trees  and  ordinarily 
allowed  the  birds  to  eat  all  they  wished  without  let  or  hin- 
drance. That  spring  father  and  mother  gave  consent  for 


THE  CEDAR  WAXWING  277 

my  older  brother  to  shoot  certain  birds  that  were  eating 
cherries,  and  having  a  new  twenty-two  caliber  rifle  he  was 
not  slow  in  acting  on  the  permission.  Kobins,  red-headed 
woodpeckers,  cedar  waxwings,  and  blue  jays  were  the  worst 
offenders,  but  robins  were  not  to  be  killed.  The  slaughter 
continued  for  only  one  forenoon,  however,  and  perhaps 
no  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  birds  were  killed.  Then 
my  brother  himself  decided  that  it  was  cruel  to  kill  birds 
simply  because  they  liked  cherries,  but  he  did  not  come  to 
this  decision  till  four  or  five  cedar  waxwings  had  been 
killed. 

This  bird  measures  seven  and  a  quarter  inches  from  the 
end  of  its  bill  to  the  end  of  its  tail,  and  as  the  tail  is  con- 
siderably less  than  three  inches  long  the  body  is  of  fair 
size,  not  quite  so  large  as  the  butcher  bird's,  but  yet  quite 
plump.  Many  farmers  slaughter  these  birds  without  mercy 
because  of  their  love  for  cherries.  Few  seem  to  know  that 
they  have  any  good  qualities  to  offset  this  weakness.  If 
they  were  to  become  better  acquainted  with  them,  how- 
ever, they  would  find  them  among  our  best  insect-eating 
birds.  True  tHey  eat  berries  of  various  kinds,  but  most  of 
the  berries  are  wild.  They  eat  a  great  many  seeds,  but 
not  grain,  and  the  few  cherries  they  devour  are  paid  for 
many  times  over  by  destroying  insects. 

I  presume  the  thing  that  most  prejudices  people  against 
these  birds  is  their  gluttony.  They  will  eat  any  berry,  fairly 
gorging  themselves  on  fruits  that  no  other  bird  eats,  often 
continuing  until  they  can  not  fly.  They  seem  greatly  to 
enjoy  their  food,  erecting  their  topknots  and  moving  their 
wings  as  they  eat,  and  in  every  way  showing  keenest  en- 
joment.  The  are  persistent  when  feeding,  so  much  so 
that  it  is  often  difficult  to  drive  them  out  of  a  cherry  tree. 


278     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

Ordinarily  they  are  cautious.  They  fly  in  droves,  often 
circling  several  times  to  make  sure  all  is  safe  before  alight- 
ing; but  when  once  they  are  convinced  all  is  well,  they 
pour  down  all  in  a  heap.  Then  they  scatter  and  begin 
feeding. 

They  nest  on  a  low  horizontal  limb,  preferring  an  apple 
tree.  They  build  the  nest  largely  of  coarse  grass,  lining 
it  with  finer  grass  and  tie  it  to  the  limb  securely.  They 
lay  four  purplish  white  eggs  speckled  with  black,  more  so 
at  the  larger  end. 

When  the  nest  is  disturbed  they  are  seldom  seen,  as  they 
quietly  slip  away  at  the  first  approach  of  danger  and  re- 
main away  till  the  danger  is  past. 


XLII 

THE  BUTCHER  BIRD 

A  LITTLE  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  old 
farm  house  on  the  east  edge  of  our  farm  stood  one  of 
the  first  three  orchards  set  out  in  that  part  of  Iowa.  Most 
of  the  trees  had  originally  been  seedlings,  but  father,  with 
the  skill  of  most  pioneers,  had  top-grafted  them  and  many 
of  them  were  as  large  as  forest  trees  and  bore  apples  as 
good  as  could  be  found  anywhere.  The  field  where  the 
orchard  grew  was  usually  planted  to  corn,  even  the  or- 
chard being  cultivated  as  tho  no  apples  were  there.  This 
field  had  an  osage  orange  hedge  on  all  sides,  but  on  the 
north  there  were  occasional  holes  where  the  cattle  were 
wont  to  break  through.  To  prevent  this  two  or  three 
strands  of  barbed  wire  had  been  stretched  through  the 
hedge. 

In  apple  time  sister  and  I  were  often  given  two  sacks 
and  sent  to  this  orchard  for  a  load  of  apples.  This  was 
always  a  delight,  for  there  was  never  any  hurry,  there 
was  always  an  abundance  of  delicious  apples  to  be  eaten, 
and  when  one  no  longer  had  room  to  eat  there  was  plenty 
of  time  to  fill  the  sacks.  In  the  hedge  fence  near  the  old 
Shaker  Yellow  apple  tree  was  a  bird's  nest  of  a  variety 
whose  name  we  did  not  know.  The  nest's  owner  was  some- 
what larger  than  both  the  phoebe  bird  that  nested  un- 

279 


280     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

der  the  cattle  shed  and  the  catbird  that  nested  in  the  pip- 
pin tree,  but  it  did  not  much  resemble  either.  It  was  a 
beautiful  bluish  gray  with  black  wings  and  tail,  and 
always  looked  so  fresh  and  clean  that  we  were  fond  of  it. 
The  nest  was  placed  so  low  that  by  standing  on  an  old 
barrel  we  could  see  the  eggs  and  watch  the  young  birds. 
These  birds  were  not  shy,  and  were  always  on  the  watch 
about  their  nest,  tho  they  did  not  make  any  such  outcry 
when  we  came  near  as  did  mother  catbird. 

They  nested  there  year  after  year,  seldom  locating  the 
new  nest  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  from  the  old 
one.  They  and  their  nest  form  one  of  my  earliest  recol- 
lections, and  when  I  left  home  at  sixteen  to  enter  college 
they  were  still  nesting  in  the  old  place,  so  of  course  I 
knew  them  pretty  well.  With  a  cornfield  on  one  side,  a 
pasture  on  the  other,  and  a  neighbor's  oat  field  within  a 
hundred  yards,  food  was  always  abundant.  True,  these 
crops  sometimes  alternated,  but  they  were  always  there. 
Those  birds  fed  on  grasshoppers  and  beetles,  with  an  oc- 
casional mouse  for  dessert,  so  they  could  have  had  no 
better  hunting  ground. 

I  had  known  these  birds  for  a  number  of  years  when 
one  spring  I  began  to  find  grasshoppers  and  beetles  im- 
paled on  hedge  thorns  or  on  barbs  on  the  wire  near  the 
nest.  These  insects  were  stuck  so  that  they  could  not 
wriggle  loose,  and  yet  were  not  hurt  seriously  enough  to 
die  for  some  time.  Once  or  twice  I  found  a  mouse  secure- 
ly stuck  on  a  barb  by  the  skin  of  his  back,  wiggling  and 
twisting  in  a  vain  attempt  to  get  free.  This  appeared  to 
me  cruel  and  horrible,  but  I  had  no  idea  who  was  doing  it. 
I  knew  that  small  boys  had  been  coming  to  the  orchard  for 
apples,  and  I  thought  they  were  amusing  themselves  in 


THE  MIGRANT  SHRIKE 


THE  BUTCHER  BIRD  281 

this  way.  "We  did  not  care  about  the  apples  as  there 
were  plenty  of  them,  but  I  did  care  about  this  cruelty.  I 
made  it  my  business  to  release  every  poor  creature  I  found 
impaled  in  this  way,  and  either  to  turn  it  loose  or,  if  it 
appeared  too  badly  hurt,  to  end  its  suffering  by  killing  it. 
I  became  so  indignant  that  I  finally  appointed  myself  a 
committee  of  one  to  discover  the  culprits,  and  one  day  dis- 
covered them.  To  my  utter  surprize  these  birds  were 
guilty.  The  situation  was  this :  it  had  been  a  cold  spring, 
and  grasshoppers  and  other  food  were  scarce.  Ordinarily 
these  birds  could  catch  an  abundance  of  food  whenever 
they  desired,  but  this  year  it  was  different.  It  often  took 
a  long  time  to  find  food,  but  early  in  the  morning  when 
the  grasshoppers  were  cold  and  stiff  they  could  be  caught 
easily.  These  birds  would  not  eat  decayed  or  tainted  meat 
of  any  kind  if  they  could  help  it,  and  they  did  not  know 
how  to  build  coops  or  pens.  Clearly  this  was  the  only 
way  they  knew  to  keep  a  supply  of  live,  fresh  meat  always 
on  hand.  As  the  summer  wore  on  the  insects  became 
abundant,  I  found  no  more  poor  creatures  stuck  on  the 
thorns  and  barbed  wire. 

When  I  made  these  discoveries,  I  renewed  my  efforts 
to  find  out  what  birds  these  were.  Finally  some  one  in 
the  neighborhood  said  they  were  called  "butcher  birds" 
because  of  the  cruel  way  they  had  of  sticking  mice,  small 
birds,  etc.,  on  thorns  merely  for  the  fun  of  watching  them 
die.  Since  then,  I  have  learned  that  this  bird's  true  name 
is  the  migrant  shrike;  and  that  there  is  a  large  family 
of  shrikes  all  looking  much  alike  and  having  practically 
the  same  habits.  In  regions  where  this  bird  is  abundant, 
it  is  common  to  find  small  creatures  impaled  on  thorns  and 
barbed  wire.  I  am  aware  that  many  who  are  very  familiar 


KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

with  the  shrike's  habit  claim  that  they  impale  these  poor 
insects  for  the  fun  of  killing,  and  that  they  never  return 
to  them  afterwards.  This  may  be  true,  but  it  certainly 
was  not  true  of  my  birds.  I  have  many  time  seen  them 
return  and  eat  insects  they  had  impaled,  and  have  even 
seen  them  feed  these  to  their  young. 

My  friend,  Professor  A.  C.  Holt,  dean  of  Tusculum 
College,  tells  me  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he  knew  these 
shrikes  very  well,  and  that  he  never  knew  them  to  impale 
creatures  for  amusement  merely.  This  corresponds  to  my 
own  experience,  for  I  had  known  these  birds  for  several 
years,  seeing  them  practically  every  day  and  spending 
hours  in  the  vicinity  of  their  nests,  before  I  discovered  any 
such  habit.  Cruel,  you  will  say !  Yes,  but  no  more  cruel 
than  for  fisherman  to  string  their  fish  on  a  line  or  a 
string  of  bark  passed  through  the  gills  and  to  leave  them 
for  hours  or  even  days  in  the  water,  where  every  breath  is 
torture  while  they  also  suffer  for  lack  of  food.  Nor  is  it 
more  cruel  than  the  way  we  handle  chickens  in  our  mar- 
kets. 

The  shrike  is  accused  of  robbing  other  birds'  nests,  and 
I  presume  in  an  emergency  he  does  so ;  but  I  have  seen  as 
many  as  three  or  four  sparrows'  and  other  small  birds* 
nests  within  a  hundred  feet  of  my  shrike's  nest  and  none 
of  them  were  ever  disturbed;  moreover  the  mother  birds 
showed  no  alarm  when  the  shrike  happened  to  alight  near 
their  nests.  I  am  convinced  that  shrikes  feed  entirely  on 
live  insects  and  mice  when  they  can  get  them.  If  the 
food  supply  runs  short,  they  store  a  supply  when  they 
make  a  lucky  find.  If  food  should  become  even  more 
scarce  and  a  bird's  nest  happened  to  be  near,  I  do  not  doubt 
that  they  would  eat  the  young  birds.  Doubtless  for  this 


THE  BUTCHER  BIRD  28S 

reason  they  deserve  the  widely  spread  common  name  of 
" butcher  birds/'  but  nevertheless  they  are  a  benefit  to  the 
farmer.  Nesting  as  they  do  in  well  protected  places  near 
the  fields  they  devour  a  large  number  of  field  mice,  and 
surely  this  is  good  service. 


XLIII 

THE  RED-EYED  VIREO 

THE  first  thing  I  usually  hear  of  a  summer's  morning 
(if  I  waken  at  the  time  I  usually  do,  just  as  the  first 
streak  of  dawn  appears  in  the  east)  is  the  song  of  the 
red-eyed  vireo,  tho  at  home,  where  we  had  plenty  of  robins, 
they  used  to  hegin  singing  as  early  as  the  vireos.  In  fact, 
it  was  a  race  between  these  two  birds  to  see  which  would 
get  up  first,  sing  his  morning  hymn,  and  catch  the  early 
worm. 

From  the  fact  that  the  vireo  is  one  of  the  first  birds  to 
sing  in  the  morning,  it  becomes  fairly  easy  for  one  who  is 
willing  to  get  up  early  to  identify  him.  He  proclaims 
bis  name  as  plainly  as  a  bird  can  do.  His  melody  is 
scarcely  worthy  of  the  name  song,  nevertheless  it  is  a 
pleasing  and  cheerful  role  and  seems  to  express  entire 
satisfaction  on  the  part  of  the  bird  himself.  It  is  a  "vireo- 
vireo-viriee-vir-'a-viree,"  uttered  energetically  but  with  a 
tendency  to  drawl  the  words  a  bit. 

As  the  day  advances,  by  nine-o'clock  the  robin  is  usu- 
ally through  singing  and  does  not  resume  till  evening. 
Not  so  with  the  red-eyed  vireo.  He  sings  all  day  long. 
But  tho  he  sings  almost  constantly,  he  is  usually  heard 
rather  than  seen.  His  small  size  and  dull  color  help  to 
conceal  him  and  he  generally  manages  to  keep  himself 

284 


THE  RED-EYED  VIREO  285 

hidden  in  the  trees  and  brush.  He  not  only  prefers  to 
live  in  trees,  but  chooses  the  tall  leafy  ones  where  he 
flits  about  among  the  topmost  branches. 

He  feeds  largely  on  the  caterpillars,  flies,  and  other  in- 
sects in  the  tree  tops,  hence  has  small  need  of  coming  to 
the  ground.  If  you  watch  a  vireo  carefully,  you  will 
see  him  moving  back  and  forth  on  a  limb,  reaching  for 
insects  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other,  stretching 
his  neck  and  legs  until  you  would  almost  think  they  are 
made  of  rubber.  He  hunts  over  the  limbs  from  morning 
till  night,  stopping  every  few  moments  to  sing  his  thank- 
fulness for  his  delightful  home.  He  is  such  a  lover  of  the 
trees  that  he  sometimes  even  drinks  the  dew  and  raindrops 
that  cling  to  the  leaves  and  branches. 

I  have  found  the  red-eyed  vireo's  nest  in  a  clump  of  small 
bushes  within  two  feet  of  the  ground,  tho  more  often  they 
build  in  trees  some  ten  or  fifteen  feet  high.  The  nest  is 
rather  characteristic,  being  a  half  hanging  nest.  Where 
it  can  be  obtained,  the  mother  bird  peels  off  the  tough  in- 
ner bark  of  the  red  elm  or  of  the  willow,  sometimes  using 
the  tough  fibers  of  the  previous  year's  "cotton  weeds/' 
and  weaves  the  body  of  the  nest  from  this  tough  fiber.  As 
soon  as  this  is  woven  so  that  she  is  assured  of  plenty  of 
strength,  she  mixes  in  other  materials,  such  as  soft  grass 
and  fuzz  from  various  seeds.  Bits  of  hornets'  nests  or 
pieces  of  paper  are  often  used  not  only  to  make  the  nest 
soft  and  cozy  but  because  the  dull  colors  are  effective  in 
helping  to  conceal  it. 

The  eggs  are  glossy  white  but  are  slightly  speckled 
at  the  large  end  with  reddish  brown  or  chocolate.  Four  is 
the  most  common  number,  altho  it  is  not  unusual  for  the 
bird  to  lay  only  three.  When  the  young  are  able  to  leave 


286     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  nest  they  follow  their  parents,  all  hunting  together  for 
a  long  time.  The  vireo  usually  rears  but  one  brood  in  a 
season,  feeding  the  young  birds  for  some  time  after  they 
leave  the  nest. 

We  have  many  kinds  of  vireos  in  America,  but  the  red- 
eyed  is  the  most  widely  distributed.  They  are  all  small 
birds,  the  red-eyed  being  about  six  and  a  quarter  inches  long 
from  the  end  of  the  bill  to  the  tip  of  the  tail,  two  inches  of 
this  being  taken  up  by  the  tail.  The  bill  is  pointed,  and  the 
entire  bird  is  a  trim,  slender  little  creature.  The  back, 
rump,  edges  of  the  wings,  and  tail  feathers  are  of  bright 
olive  green,  rather  more  olive  than  green.  The  sides  of 
the  head  and  the  neck  are  paler.  The  top  of  the  head  is  a 
dark  ashy  color  sharply  edged  by  a  dark  line.  A  white 
line  just  below  this  dark  line  runs  from  the  bill  across 
over  the  eye  nearly  to  the  back  of  the  head.  The  bird  is 
white  beneath  and  often  shows  pale  sulphur  yellow  under 
the  tail.  All  of  the  vireos  are  delightful  birds,  and  are  es- 
pecially valuable  in  that  they  feed  almost  wholly  on  cater- 
pillars and  insects  with  a  few  weed  seeds. 

From  the  key  you  can  learn  the  family  characteristics, 
and  you  ought  to  be  able  to  find  three  or  four  kinds  of 
vireos  in  your  vicinity.  The  red-eyed  vireo,  of  course,  has 
a  red  eye,  which  is  one  means  of  distinguishing  it  from  its 
fellows. 


XLIY 

£HE  YELLOW  WARBLER 

AMONG  our  small  birds,  of  which  we  have  such  great 
numbers,  there  is  none  more  commonly  known  and 
more  widely  distributed  than  the  yellow  warbler  or,  as  it 
used  to  be  known  when  I  was  a  child,  the  summer  warbler. 
It  comes  flocking  North  in  the  early  part  of  April  and 
stays  with  us  till  late  fall.    It  is  one  of  the  birds  that  seem 
to  come  all  at  once.    We  children  used  to  watch  eagerly 
for  the  first  bluebird  or  robin,  and  then  expect  it  to  be 
several  days  before  we  would  see  another,  and  usually  two 
or  even  three  weeks  would  pass  before  they  became  com- 
mon.    This  was  not  true  of  the  yellow  warblers.     When 
you  saw  one  you  could  expect  to  see  others  right  along, 
and  they  were  among  the  most  numerous  of  our  small  birds. 
There  is  a  large  family  of  the  warblers,  and  it  may  be 
rather  difficult  for  the  beginner  to  learn  to  recognize  them. 
In  the  key  you  will  find  the  characteristics  of  the  family 
and  by  becoming  acquainted  with  two  or  three  warblers, 
it  will  be  easier  to  recognize  the  others.    We  have  chosen  to 
tell  the  story  of  the  yellow  warbler  not  only  because  it  is 
plentiful  over  more  of  our  country  than  any  other  but  be- 
cause it  is  one  of  the  easiest  to  recognize.    It  arrives  in  the 
spring  ahead  of  most  of  the  small  birds,  and  this  makes  it 
still  easier  to  recognize. 

287 


288     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

There  are  several  peculiarities  by  which  this  bird  can 
be  identified  if  you  can  get  near  enough  to  see  it  well.  Its 
bill  is  lead-colored,  while  its  head  and  under  parts  are  yel- 
low— not  a  dull  but  a  really  bright  yellow.  The  back  and 
the  rest  of  the  upper  parts  are  a  dull  yellowish  green, 
brightest  on  the  rump.  In  some  birds  the  back  is  more 
olive  than  yellow.  Sometimes  there  are  streaks  of  dusky 
reddish  brown  on  the  back,  while  the  breast  and  the  sides 
of  the  body  are  always  streaked  with  brownish  red.  The 
tail  feathers  are  dusky,  except  part  of  the  web,  which  is 
yellow.  The  wing  feathers  are  dusky,  edged  with  yellow- 
ish green,  while  there  are  two  narrow  bands  of  yellow  on 
the  wing. 

They  mostly  frequent  the  thickets  and  edges  of  woods, 
but  can  be  seen  almost  everywhere.  While  they  have  a 
charming  little  song,  they  are  by  no  means  great  song- 
sters and  perhaps  would  never  be  noticed  for  their  song 
alone.  In  fact,  after  the  other  birds  have  come  North 
and  the  woods  are  one  grand  chorus  of  music,  a  person 
hardly  notices  the  song  of  the  yellow  warbler. 

This  bird  must  not  be  mistaken  for  the  goldfinch,  which 
belongs  to  an  entirely  different  family.  The  male  gold- 
finch is  yellow  excepting  the  top  of  the  head,  tail,  and 
wings,  which  are  black,  while  the  general  appearance  of 
the  yellow  warbler  is  that  of  a  truly  yellow  bird.  He  is 
also  much  more  slender  than  the  goldfinch. 

What  this  bird  lacks  in  song  he  makes  up  in  mechanical 
skill.  Sometime  between  the  first  of  April  and  the  middle 
of  May  he  constructs  one  of  the  best-made  nests  of  any  of 
our  birds,  without  doubt  the  very  best  of  any  of  our  war- 
blers. It  is  almost  always  placed  in  the  forks  of  a  bush, 
the  site  being  selected  so  that  it  can  be  fastened  to  several 


THE  YELLOW  WARBLER  28D 

small  branches.  Where  everything  is  as  it  should  be,  the 
nest  is  built  three  to  five  feet  above  the  ground.  Weeds 
form  the  framework,  and  any  other  good  nesting  material 
that  can  be  easily  found  constitutes  the  filling.  Bits  of 
wool,  dead  wood,  horsehairs,  cow  hairs,  feathers — any 
such  material  is  carefully  woven  to  the  sticks  with  the  long 
tough  fiber  peeled  from  the  wild  grapevine,  or  if  the  grape- 
vine cannot  be  found,  with  fine  roots  or  tough  dry  grass. 
The  nest  is  much  larger  than  would  be  expected  of  so 
small  a  bird,  because  he  takes  the  trouble  to  make  the 
walls  very  thick.  Building  as  he  does  just  a.t  the  time 
that  the  cotton  is  flying  from  the  willows  and  the  cotton- 
woods,  a  great  deal  of  this  silky  down  is  woven  into  the 
lining.  Early  thistledown  is  occasionally  gathered  and 
used.  When  the  nest  is  finished  it  is  as  cozy  inside  as  a 
carpeted  parlor,  and  the  builder  might  well  be  proud  of 
his  job. 

The  eggs  are  greenish  white,  heavily  spotted  with  brown 
and  lilac,  the  spots  sometimes  running  together  into 
splotches.  The  cowbird  seems  to  take  especial  delight  in 
laying  her  eggs  in  the  nest  of  the  yellow  warbler,  doubtless 
in  part  because  it  is  so  well  built.  This  bird  often  selects 
the  nest  of  some  small  birds  so  that  her  young  will  be  more 
lusty  than  its  fellows. 

The  yellow  warbler  may  raise  two  broods  or  may  be  con- 
tent with  only  one,  according  to  the  part  of  the  country  in 
which  it  lives.  Those  that  go  farthest  North  probably 
raise  only  one  brood.  Like  most  of  the  warblers,  its  food 
consists  largely  of  insects  and  weed  seeds,  and  so  this  bird 
is  truly  a  friend  of  man. 


XLV 

.THE  YELLOW-BREASTED  CHAT 

IN  the  etory  of  the  crow  I  told  you  about  the  clump  of 
blackberry  bushes,  giant  ferns,  etc.,  that  grew  hard  by 
the  crabapple  thicket  and  that  tradition  said  was  a  snake's 
den.  No  one  tramped  through  this  thicket  and  so  it  had 
grown  so  thick  with  blackberry  briers  and  gooseberry 
bushes  that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  crowd  through 
it.  But  in  spite  of  supposed  snakes  and  thick  brush  few 
things  went  on  in  this  thicket  without  our  knowledge.  As 
you  remember  we  children  played  on  all  sides  of  this 
thicket,  because  it  was  only  a  few  steps  from  our  favorite 
playhouse,  the  wild  grape  arbor. 

One  day  early  in  May  sister  and  I  were  playing  in  the 
grape  arbor  when  we  noticed  a  pair  of  birds  that  were 
different  from  any  with  which  we  were  familiar.  They 
were  fair  sized  birds,  about  seven  and  a  half  inches  long, 
of  uniform  olive  green  color  above  while  the  breast  and 
under  coverts  of  the  wings  were  bright  yellow,  and  the 
belly  white. 

These  birds  stayed  pretty  close  in  this  thicket,  tho  they 
did  not  hesitate  to  enter  the  crabapple  thicket  or  the 
gooseberry  bushes  near  by.  They  did  not  go  into  the  open 
woods,  however,  seeming  to  feel  safer  in  the  thick  brush. 
The  male  evidently  had  not  finished  courting  his  wife, 

290 


THE  YELLOW-BREASTED  CHAT          291 

for  as  we  watched  them  he  went  through  the  queerest 
courtship  we  had  ever  seen.  He  would  sing  and  parade 
before  his  lady  love,  evidently  doing  his  very  best  to 
please  her,  yet  his  every  act,  even  his  voice,  gave  the  im- 
pression that  he  was  scolding  her  with  all  his  might.  He 
gesticulated  with  every  note,  sometimes  jumping  into  the 
air  and  alighting  again,  now  hanging  to  a  twig  with  his 
head  down,  now  performing  some  other  maneuver,  but  al- 
ways moving  his  body  with  every  note  uttered.  He  seemed 
to  be  in  a  perfect  delirium  of  song,  but  his  antics  ap- 
peared anything  but  graceful  to  us.  Every  few  minutes  he 
hopped  into  the  air,  sometimes  to  an  altitude  of  eight  or 
ten  feet  above  the  female,  his  feet  and  legs  dangling  at  full 
length  and  his  tail  jerked  up  and  down  until  we  had  to 
laugh  at  his  awkward  appearance. 

Evidently  the  lady  of  his  choice  failed  to  see  anything 
ludicrous  in  this  performance,  for  the  very  next  day  they 
began  building  a  nest.  This  nest  was  placed  not  more 
than  two  feet  from  the  ground,  in  a  wild  gooseberry  bush' 
toward  one  edge  of  the  thicket.  It  was  perhaps  six  or 
seven  inches  in  diameter,  built  mostly  of  dry  leaves  and 
sticks,  bound  together  with  strips  of  bark  taken  from  our 
wild  grapevine  and  grass  collected  from  under  the  hedge 
near  by.  It  was  firmly  placed,  however,  and  was  neatly 
lined  with  horsehairs  and  a  few  small  willow  roots. 

The  nest  done,  the  male  bird  again  took  up  his  song  and 
continued  to  sing  from  time  to  time  for  a  number  of  days. 
His  song  sounded  as  peculiar  as  his  antics  looked.  Perhaps 
it  can  be  best  described  in  the  words  of  Audubon,  that 
matchless  student  of  birds.  He  says  of  its  song,  "Some- 
times the  sounds  are  scarcely  louder  than  whispers,  now 
gain  strength,  deep  gutteral  notes  roll  in  slow  succession 


292     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

as  if  produced  by  the  emotion  of  surprize  then  others  clear 
and  sprightly  glide  after  each  other,  until  suddenly,  as  if 
the  bird  had  become  confused,  the  voice  becomes  a  hollow 
bass."  I  can  compare  it  to  nothing  so  well  as  to  the 
voice  of  a  boy  who  is  just  changing  from  childhood  to 
manhood. 

In  a  few  days  the  eggs  were  laid,  five  of  them,  of  a 
flesh  color  spotted  with  a  reddish  brown.  When  four  eggs 
had  been  laid  we  happened  to  notice  these  birds  making 
a  terrific  fuss  about  the  nest.  We  knew  that  something 
was  wrong,  so  ran  over  to  find  what  it  was. 

A  large  blue  racer  snake  had  crept  into  the  gooseberry 
bush  and  was  just  ready  to  help  himself  to  the  eggs.  The 
distressed  birds  were  fluttering  about,  striking  at  him  and 
using  every  means  within  their  powers  to  prevent  his 
stealing  their  precious  eggs.  Now  we  were  sure  this 
thicket  was  a  snake's  den,  but  for  all  that  we  mustered 
up  enough  courage  to  get  a  long  stick  and  chase  this  snake 
out  of  the  bush.  We  were  afraid  he  might  return  and  rob 
the  nest,  later,  but  either  snakes  do  not  remember  as  well 
as  do  crows  and  many  other  wildlings,  or  else  we  gave  him 
a  thorough  scare,  for  the  next  day  when  we  examined  the 
nest  instead  of  all  of  the  eggs  being  gone  there  were  five 
instead  of  four.  The  mother  bird  began  sitting  at  once  and 
in  twelve  days  there  were  baby  birds  in  the  nest.  Two 
broods  were  raised  that  summer. 

While  I  did  not  have  the  opportunity  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  very  many  yellow-breasted  chats  when  I  was 
a  boy,  I  have  found  them  frequently  since  and  they  almost 
always  live  in  low  brush  and  tall  weeds.  The  thicker  the 
brush  and  the  more  difficult  for  a  human  to  get  through  the 
better  they  are  pleased.  Nesting  as  they  do  in  places  that 


YELLOW-BREASTED  CHATS 


THE  YELLOW-BREASTED  CHAT  293 

are  frequented  by  snakes,  and  placing  their  nests  so  near 
the  ground,  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  snakes  to  eat 
either  the  eggs  or  the  young  birds.  The  parents  are  fear- 
less, however,  and  doubtless  sometimes  succeed  in  driving 
the  snake  away. 

If  a  dog  passes  through  their  thicket  they  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  follow  him,  scolding  and  manifesting  their  dis- 
tress in  every  possible  way,  and  I  have  even  seen  them 
pounce  on  the  dog's  back  and  peck  and  pound  him  with 
their  wings. 

These  birds  feed  largely  on  beetles,  caterpillars,  and 
other  insects,  tho  they  are  fond  of  wild  fruit,  especially 
strawberries.  Wild  strawberries  are  apt  to  grow  in  brush 
such  as  they  inhabit,  and  from  their  great  fondness  for 
this  fruit  I  have  sometimes  thought  this  might  be  a  de- 
ciding factor  in  selecting  their  home.  I  have  never  seen 
them  do  damage  in  orchards,  however,  so  no  one  should  be- 
grudge them  the  wild  berries  they  eat. 

They  are  found  over  the  greater  part  of  our  country,  tho 
one  must  go  into  the  sort  of  places  they  inhabit  in  order 
to  find  them. 


XLVI 

THE  MOCKING  BIRD 

AS  I  write  I  am  usually  entertained  all  day  long  by 
a  mocking  bird  in  a  tree  near  my  window.  If  I  feel 
blue  or  disgruntled  in  any  way,  all  I  have  to  do  is  to 
listen  to  this  bird  for  a  few  moments,  and  the  gloom  dis- 
appears and  the  world  looks  bright  again.  Unfortunately 
some  of  my  readers  have  never  seen  this  most  remarkable 
of  songsters,  but  wherever  it  is  known  it  has  always  been 
greatly  loved. 

There  is  a  legend  that  once  upon  a  time  the  birds  were 
discussing  which  was  the  best  singer.  The  argument  waxed 
loud  and  long  until  at  last  the  wise  old  owl  suggested  that 
they  have  a  contest.  Each  bird  was  to  sing  his  sweetest 
song  and  then  all  should  vote  as  to  which  was  the  master 
musician.  Through  all  this  discussion  the  mocking  bird 
remained  silent,  but  no  one  seemed  to  notice  this  until  the 
contest  began.  The  lark,  the  robin,  and  the  nightingale, 
the  whippoorwill,  the  blue  jay,  and  the  wren — in  fact,  all 
the  birds — in  turn  sang  their  loudest  and  best  till  all  were 
done.  Then  some  one  discovered  that  the  mocking  bird 
had  taken  no  part  at  all.  One  after  another  demanded  the 
reason,  and  finally  were  met  with  the  reply  that  he  had  no 
song.  At  last,  after  much  urging,  he  came  forward, 
chirped  a  bit,  and  then  sang  the  song  of  one  bird  after 

294. 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  295 

another  until  he  had  sung  the  songs  of  all.  When  the  vote 
"was  taken  he  was  chosen  by  common  acclaim  the  greatest 
singer  of  them  all,  for  all  acknowledged  that  not  only 
could  he  sing  as  well  as  others  but  could  sing  their  own 
eongs  better  than  they  themselves  could  sing  them. 

This  legend  isn't  so  far  from  the  truth,  for  while  the 
mocking  bird  really  has  no  fine  song  of  his  own,  he  is  the 
greatest  mimic  in  the  world. 

For  a  number  of  years  a  mocking  bird  nested  within  a 
few  yards  of  my  window.  We  became  well  acquainted,  and 
a  wag  he  proved  himself  to  be.  In  the  springtime,  when 
the  mother  is  breeding,  the  mocking  bird  seems  too  happy 
to  think  of  anything  but  song.  All  day  long  he  sits  on 
some  limb  and  sings  his  heart  out.  Thus  far  he  is  not 
much  different  from  other  birds,  but  when  the  sun  goes 
down  and  most  of  the  others  creep  off  to  sleep,  the  mocking 
bird  seems  to  feel  that  it  is  his  duty  to  make  up  the  de- 
ficiency by  singing  all  the  longer  and  louder.  Any  time 
that  I  waken  during  the  months  of  April,  May,  and  early 
June  I  can  hear  my  mocking  bird  singing,  and  it  is  in  the 
night  that  he  manifests  his  roguish  spirit  most  clearly. 

I  used  to  raise  Chinese  geese,  and  in  the  springtime 
usually  had  a  few  valuable  goslings  about  the  house  which 
I  always  shut  up  carefully  at  night  lest  disaster  overtake 
them.  I  never  knew  how  friend  mocking  bird  learned  of 
the  great  interest  I  took  in  these  goslings,  but  certain  it 
is  that  before  they  were  a  week  old,  about  the  time  I 
would  fall  into  the  soundest  sleep  I  was  sure  to  be  awak- 
ened by  the  voice  of  little  goslings.  I  would  listen  a  while 
doubting  my  ears  and  trying  to  distinguish  some  false 
note,  but  usually  ended  by  going  out  to  catch  my  stray 
goslings.  Sure  enough  the  noise  would  be  coming  from 


296     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  grass  and  I  would  follow  it  a  few  steps  and  then  stop 
to  listen.  The  sound  always  seemed  only  a  few  feet  away, 
but  strange  to  say  every  time  I  thought  I  was  getting  near, 
it  would  come  from  some  place  a  little  way  beyond.  After 
the  bird  had  led  me  about  from  place  to  place  for  five  or  ten 
minutes,  the  last  "peep"  was  pretty  sure  to  come  from  a 
tree  straight  overhead  and  would  be  followed  by  the  cackle 
of  a  guinea  or  the  bark  of  a  dog,  and  I  would  remark  to 
myself,  "stung  again!"  Nevertheless  the  next  night  my 
anxiety  usually  got  the  better  of  my  judgment,  and  I  would 
feel  sure  that  that  time  a  gosling  had  actually  gotten 
out. 

A  little  later  in  the  season  there  was  a  brood  of  baby 
bronze  turkeys  about  the  house  for  a  few  days,  and  we 
had  our  performance  over  again  practically  every  night, 
except  that  Sir  Mocking  Bird  chose  to  imitate  a  baby 
turkey  rather  than  a  gosling  that  had  now  grown  too  large 
to  need  care. 

A  little  later  I  bought  an  Angora  cat  which  raised  me 
a  few  broods  of  kittens.  Now  my  mocker  was  in  the  height 
of  his  glory,  seeming  to  realize  that  the  safety  of  a 
kitten  meant  a  great  deal  more  than  that  of  a  gosling  or  a 
turkey,  and  I  think  he  must  have  had  the  time  of  his  life 
worrying  me  night  after  night  every  time  there  was  a  litter 
of  kittens  on  the  back  porch.  You  may  say  that  I  should 
have  learned  that  the  mocking  bird  was  deceiving  me.  I 
felt  so  too,  sometimes,  but  just  so  surely  as  I  came  to  this 
conclusion  I  would  find  that  some  imp  had  put  it  into 
the  head  of  some  of  my  pets  actually  to  get  out  and  lose 
themselves  and  when  I  did  not  go  to  the  rescue  some  real 
disaster  was  quite  sure  to  happen. 

A  little  later,  when  the  neighbor's  guineas  became  noisy, 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  297 

my  mocking  bird  took  up  their  song  for  a  time,  singing 
"potrack"  as  well  as  any  guinea  could. 

When  the  robins  are  flying  northward  in  great  numbers 
and  sing  in  every  tree,  my  mocking  bird  seemingly  believes 
himself  to  be  a  robin,  but  within  a  week  or  two  he  forgets 
all  about  this  and  takes  up  the  song  of  some  other  bird. 
Just  now  some  of  the  boys  have  made  a  peculiar  whistle 
which  they  are  enjoying,  and  only  a  day  or  two  ago  some 
one  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  my  mocking  bird 
T?as  imitating  this  whistle.  A  few  summers  ago  I  arranged 
for  some  one  to  give  a  certain  signal  on  a  police  whistle  if 
my  number  was  called,  so  that  no  matter  where  I  happened 
to  be  I  could  come  to  the  telephone.  It  didn't  take  my 
mocking  bird  long  to  adopt  this  whistle,  and  many  times 
he  has  called  me  to  the  phone  only  to  learn  that  the  girl 
had  not  whistled  for  me.  I  always  fancied  that  he  looked 
at  me  with  a  sly  wink  of  amusement  every  time  he  saw 
me  come  in  answer  to  one  of  his  calls. 

The  mocking  bird  is  much  like  the  blue  jay  in  size  and 
build,  the  chief  difference  being  that  the  mocker  is  more 
slender  and  altogether  a  lighter  bird.  He  frequents  hedges 
and  brushy  fence  rows,  much  as  does  the  jay ;  and,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  I  have  known  people  to  confuse  the  two.  He 
feeds  on  seeds,  berries,  fruits,  and  insects  when  he  can  get 
them,  seeming  to  prefer  grasshoppers  and  crickets,  though 
he  eats  many  caterpillars  and  even  cotton  boll  weevils  and 
other  beetles.  He  has  been  a  hunter  so  long  that  he  has 
learned  the  way  of  the  wild  folk.  Mcny  an  hour  I  have 
watched  him  in  my  front  yard  during  the  hot  summer. 
He  runs  across  the  lawn  for  perhaps  eight  or  ten  feet,  then 
suddenly  stops  and  throws  up  his  wings,  sometimes  re- 
peating this  action  two  or  three  times.  There  is  a  con- 


298     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

spicuous  white  spot  under  each  wing,  and  from  observing 
him  I  have  concluded  that  this  maneuver  is  an  attempt  to 
frighten  an  insect  into  making  a  move.  Many  insects  are 
so  colored  that  so  long  as  they  do  not  move,  they  are  hard 
for  even  a  bird  to  see.  But  among  insects  there  are  a 
great  many  foolish  individuals  which,  even  though  they 
may  know  the  law  of  the  woods,  <rWhen  in  doubt  sit  tight 
and  keep  still/'  never  seem  to  be  able  to  remember  it  when 
•danger  approaches.  My  mocker  seldom  has  to  throw  up 
his  wings  many  times  before  some  grasshopper  is  foolish 
enough  to  move  and  then  he  is  sure  to  disappear  down  the 
mocking  bird's  throat  or  be  carried  away  to  feed  the  fledg- 
lings. 

The  mocking  bird  does  not  confine  his  song  to  the 
mating  season.  During  the  hot  days  of  August,  when  he 
is  tired  out  from  taking  care  of  two  or  three  broods  of 
young,  he  is  usually  quiet,  but  no  sooner  has  he  molted 
and  the  first  cool  days  of  fall  have  come  than  he  again 
begins  his  singing.  His  fall  song  is  not  so  rollicking  nor 
so  continuous  as  his  spring  song,  and  he  seldom  sings  at 
night  in  the  fall;  but  for  all  that  I  think  his  fall  song  is 
the  sweeter. 

The  mocking  bird  migrates  little  if  at  all.  In  the  winter 
he  feeds  largely  on  weed  seeds  and  wild  berries,  but  does 
not  sing  until  the  opening  of  spring.  One  has  no  trouble 
in  recognizing  the  mocking  bird  even  though  its  most  com- 
mon song  closely  resembles  that  of  the  brown  thrasher  or 
some  of  our  other  best  song  birds.  The  bird  resembles  the 
thrushes  closely  in  shape,  except  for  its  long  tail,  and  it 
is  nearly  their  size,  but  none  of  the  thrushes  resemble  it 
closely  in  color.  The  catbird,  the  brown  thresher,  and  the 
yellow-billed  cuckoo  are  all  similar  to  the  mocking  bird 


THE  MOCKING  BIRD  299 

in  shape,  but  there  the  resemblance  ceases.  The  mocking 
bird  has  one  characteristic  feature,  that  of  jumping  up  and 
down  while  singing,  though  he  seldom  does  this  except  in 
the  mating  season.  At  times  he  flies  high  in  the  air  and 
sings  as  he  comes  down,  often  singing  until  he  reaches 
the  ground. 

Mocking  birds  are  not  found  to  any  great  extent  along 
the  Pacific  coast  north  of  central  California,  or,  coming 
further  east,  much  north  of  the  Missouri  and  Ohio  rivers, 
but  they  have  been  found  occasionally  as  far  north  as  New 
England.  In  my  childhood  days  I  saw  three  or  four  in 
southern  Iowa. 

Without  doubt  the  mocking  bird  is  one  of  our  best 
American  songsters,  and  a  great  many  bird  lovers  give  him 
first  place  among  the  wild  birds  of  the  world,  preferring 
him  even  to  the  nightingale. 


XL  VII 

SALLY  THE  HOUSE  WREN 

IN"  England  there  is  a  little  brown  bird  known  as  the 
Jenny  Wren,  which  has  a  "stickup"  tail  and  carries 
itself  in  a  pert,  attractive,  and  characteristic  way.  We 
have  a  number  of  wrens  in  America,  all  of  them  about  the 
shape  of  the  Jenny  Wren,  some  of  them  larger  and  some 
smaller,  but  none  of  them  large  birds.  In  most  of  our 
States  we  may  find  the  long-billed  marsh  wren  among  the 
rushes  bordering  ponds,  lakes  and  streams.  This  bird  is 
shy,  and  a  person  has  to  be  keen  to  see  it.  It  nests  among 
the  reeds  and  feeds  on  insects  and  worms.  Its  color  is  cin- 
namon brown  with  a  whitish  streak  down  the  back.  It  is 
recognized  as  a  wren  by  its  "stick-up"  tail.  The  short- 
billed  marsh  wren  also  lives  in  swamps,  but  it  may  be 
easily  identified  by  the  lack  of  a  long  bill  and  by  the  upper 
parts  being  streaked  all  over. 

The  most  common  wren  found  over  the  northern  part 
of  the  United  States  and  the  one  most  widely  known  is 
the  house  wren.  I  suppose  because  our  forefathers  had 
always  known  the  Jenny  Wren  at  home,  and  noted  the 
similarity  of  these  tame  little  songsters  to  it,  they  called 
them  jenny  wrens.  Even  now  most  people  do  not  know 
we  have  no  jenny  wrens.  This  bird  is  a  delightful  song- 
ster and  very  tame.  It  almost  always  nests  about  our 
houses,  and  if  there  is  a  knot  hole  in  the  weather-board- 
ing it  is  quite  sure  to  build  in  the  house. 

800 


SALLY  THE  HOUSE  WREN  301 

I  tell  the  story  of  Sally  the  house  wren,  an  old  friend 
of  my  boyhood  days,  because  Sally  was  such  a  shrewd, 
bright,  pert  little  mother  and  was  so  typical  of  the  family 
that  her  story  will  give  a  good  idea  of  wrens  in  general. 

One  day  late  in  April  I  was  visiting  my  old  uncle, 
David  Halferty.  I  liked  to  visit  there,  for  Uncle  Dave  was 
a  most  interesting  story-teller  and  Aunt  Polly  was  a  master 
hand  at  fishing.  I  thought  their  house  was  the  most  beau- 
tiful in  all  the  world,  and  it  was  situated  in  the  only 
spruce  grove  I  ever  saw  in  my  childhood  days.  The  spruce 
had  been  set  out;  but  those  who  planted  them  had  been 
wise  enough  not  to  put  them  in  straight  rows,  so  no 
one  would  have  known  that  they  had  not  come  up  them- 
selves. 

Another  interesting  thing  to  me  was  their  well.  Our 
well  at  home  was  properly  covered  with  a  platform  on. 
which  was  a  pump,  and  when  we  wanted  water  we  simply 
pumped  it.  The  same  was  true  of  all  the  neighbors'  wells, 
but  Uncle  Dave's  well  was  different.  It  was  some  forty- 
five  feet  deep,  had  a  beautiful  old  well  house  over  it,  and 
the  water  was  drawn  with  a  windlass  and  two  buckets.  One 
of  the  first  things  that  always  happened  when  I  reached 
that  place  was  that  I  suddenly  became  thirsty  and  ran 
to  the  well  for  the  novelty  of  pulling  up  a  great  brimming 
pail  of  water  and  watching  the  other  pail  go  down  and 
sink  out  of  sight  in  the  depths  below.  Another  attraction 
was  that  the  only  hammock  I  had  ever  seen  was  stretched 
between  two  of  these  great  spruce  trees,  and  a  boy  was  free 
to  play  in  it  as  much  as  he  pleased. 

I  went  over  to  Uncle  Dave's  early  one  morning  in 
spring.  As  usual,  Uncle  Dave  took  it  upon  himself  to 
entertain  me  until  dinner  by  showing  me  about  the  place 


302     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

and  telling  stories.  Aunt  Polly  and  I  were  to  go  fish- 
ing in  the  afternoon.  We  had  chored  about  the  barn  and 
were  on  our  way  back  to  the  house  when  we  were  both 
startled  by  the  rollicking  song  of  a  wren.  "Well,"  said 
Uncle  Dave,  "I  do  believe  Sally  is  back;  let's  go  and  see," 
and  he  led  the  way  to  the  well.  Uncle  Dave  leaned  over  the 
well  and  called,  "Sally,  Sally."  Quick  as  a  wink  the  bird 
darted  to  his  side,  scolding,  twittering,  and  fussing  with 
all  her  might.  He  stood  there  and  smiled  until  she  became 
quiet  and  then  called  "Sally,"  and  the  whole  thing  started 
over  again.  It  seemed  that  this  little  songster  knew  her 
name  and  resented  it. 

It  had  started  in  this  way.  Two  years  before,  this  wren 
had  decided  to  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  roof  of  the 
well  house.  Day  after  day  she  and  her  hard  working  hus- 
band carried  sticks  by  the  hundred  and  piled  them  in  the 
corner  of  the  well-house  rafters,  and  evening  after  evening 
Uncle  Dave  threw  them  away,  for  he  was  equally  deter- 
mined that  she  should  not  nest  in  the  well  house,  lest  the 
sticks  and  feathers  flutter  down  into  the  water.  Some 
whim  caused  him  to  begin  calling  her  Sally,  and  scolding 
her  every  time  she  came  around  the  well.  Persistent  little 
vixen  that  she  was,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  she  raised  three 
broods  of  young  in  the  very  spot  where  she  placed  her 
first  sticks.  She  became  so  furious  at  his  throwing  away 
her  sticks  that  he  could  not  come  near  the  well  without  her 
flying  into  his  face  scolding  and  pecking  like  a  little 
demon,  although  she  never  bothered  anyone  else.  This 
pleased  Uncle  Dave  so  much  that  he  finally  surrendered 
and  allowed  her  to  have  her  way.  As  the  summer  wore 
away  and  her  nest  was  not  disturbed  any  more,  her  resent- 
ment seemed  to  settle  around  the  use  of  the  name  Sally, 


SALLY  THE  HOUSE  WREN  803 

and  nothing  delighted  Uncle  Dave  more  than  to  call 
"Sally,"  and  have  her  fly  around  his  head  and  scold. 

Sally,  like  all  of  her  tribe,  was  a  tireless  worker.  When 
nesting  time  came  she  seemed  to  carry  sticks  for  the  pure 
pleasure  of  it.  She  would  fill  holes  that  would  hold  a 
peck  or  more  with  sticks  without  paying  the  least  attention 
to  the  order  in  which  they  were  placed,  even  though  she 
finally  built  her  nest  in  a  different  place  entirely.  There 
were  many  osage  orange  (bois  d'arc)  hedges  in  the  coun- 
try, and  Sally  gathered  the  thorny  twigs  that  had  been 
trimmed  from  these  hedges  the  previous  year.  These 
sticks  were  never  less  than  six  inches  long,  and  often  she 
would  carry  pieces  eight  or  ten  inches  long.  Her  nest 
was  usually  constructed  almost  entirely  of  these  thorny 
sticks  and  was  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diameter  and  four 
or  five  inches  deep.  When  this  huge  pile  of  sticks  was 
in  shape  she  carried  straws,  dry  grass,  and  hairs  and  built 
rather  a  large  nest  of  these  inside  of  the  stick  nest.  She 
finished  with  a  lining  of  feathers  gathered  from  the  poul- 
try yard.  The  nest  was  so  built  that  the  sticks  covered 
the  top  as  well  as  the  bottom,  leaving  only  a  small  hole  for 
entering. 

Sally  nested  in  this  well  house  for  seven  years  and  there 
Were  few  available  spots  in  it  where  she  had  not  piled 
sticks  some  time  or  other,  though  in  the  end  the  old  nest 
was  usually  repaired  and  used  again.  I  became  so  inter- 
ested in  her  that  I  determined  to  have  some  wrens  of  my 
own.  So  I  found  two  or  three  bleaching  horseheads  which 
I  put  in  trees  in  various  parts  of  the  yard,  and  every  year 
a  pair  of  wrens  nested  in  each  of  these  skulls.  The  hole 
where  the  spinal  cord  had  entered  the  head  was  used  as  an 
entrance  and  the  nest  was  built  where  the  brain  had  been. 


304     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

An  interesting  thing  about  these  nests  was  that  the  birds 
would  spend  three  or  four  days  piling  sticks  here  and 
there  until  they  became  satisfied  that  they  had  done  their 
duty.  Then  they  carried  just  enough  hairs  and  feathers 
into  the  skull  to  make  a  snug  warm  nest  without  attempt- 
ing to  take  any  sticks  in  at  all.  I  never  could  understand 
why  they  should  carry  to  such  places  a  lot  of  sticks  which 
they  could  never  use. 

Sally  always  looked  upon  the  kitchen  garden  as  her 
special  domain,  and  made  it  a  business  to  attack  on  sight 
any  other  bird  that  dared  enter  its  sacred  precincts.  This 
garden  was  a  full  hundred  yards  from  her  nest,  but  ex- 
perience taught  there  might  be  luscious  cabbage  worms  on 
every  head  of  cabbage  or  bunch  of  lettuce  in  that  garden, 
and  from  dark  till  daylight  there  were  seldom  fifteen  min- 
utes she  was  not  to  be  seen  searching  those  plants  for 
worms. 

Sally  usually  laid  seven  eggs  at  a  clutch,  though  one 
time  I  found  nine  in  a  nest.  As  the  eggs  almost  always 
hatch,  it  is  no  wonder  that  Sally  and  her  husband  had  to 
visit  the  cabbage  patch  frequently.  They  became  so  tame 
that  they  went  about  their  household  duties  without  pay- 
ing the  least  attention  even  tho  I  was  standing  within 
ten  feet.  The  hammock  was  not  twenty  feet  from  the  well 
and  it  was  interesting  to  lie  there  and  count  the  worms  car- 
ried to  the  nest  in  an  hour,  and  to  learn  what  kinds  they 
were.  Sally  ied  her  young  three  or  four  different  species 
of  "measuring  worm,"  caterpillars,  at  least  two  varieties 
of  cut  worms,  an  occasional  grasshopper,  and  perhaps  a 
few  other  small  insects,  but  her  main  reliance  was  on  cab- 
bage worms.  Five  times  out  of  six  she  would  bring  a 
green  one  to  her  young.  A  fair  estimate  of  the  number 


SALLY  THE  HOUSE  WREN  305 

of  worms  carried  to  the  nest,  based  on  counts  made  a  large 
number  of  times,  was  a  little  more  than  one  worm  every 
three  minutes.  Often  they  would  average  a  worm  a  minute 
for  an  hour  or  two.  Usually  the  babies  in  the  second  brood 
received  more  food  than  those  in  the  first,  not  because  the 
old  birds  were  more  fond  of  them,  but  because  food  was 
more  abundant  at  that  time.  When  we  think  of  those 
birds  feeding  their  young  ones  worms  every  three  minutes 
for  hours  every  day  over  a  period  of  at  least  three  weeks, 
we  can  get  some  idea  how  beneficial  they  were  to  the  gar- 
den. This  means  that  for  every  brood  of  baby  wrens 
raised  near  a  garden  thousands  of  worms  are  destroyed, 
to  say  nothing  of  what  the  old  birds  themselves  eat.  We 
never  had  to  pay  any  attention  to  cabbage  worms  in  our 
garden,  for  I  had  places  in  the  yard  where  at  least  five 
pairs  of  wrens  nested  every  season. 

I  have  said  little  about  Sally's  husband,  but  he  was  an 
important  member  of  the  family.  He  was  a  jovial,  gallant 
husband,  proud  of  his  family  and  jealous  for  their  safety. 
He  did  the  singing,  but  he  nevertheless  did  a  fair  share 
of  the  work.  When  his  mate  began  sitting  he  sang  more 
than  ever.  Perched  on  a  branch  near  the  nest  he  fairly 
laid  himself  out  to  excel  all  other  wrens  in  the  vicinity. 
Should  another  wren  sing  too  well,  he  would  attack  him 
at  once  and  a  battle  royal  was  sure  to  follow.  When  he 
had  succeeded  in  chasing  his  fancied  rival  away,  he  came 
back  with  a  more  exalting  song  than  before ;  but  he  never 
became  so  busy  with  singing  and  fighting  that  he  failed  to 
slip  away  every  little  while  and  catch  a  worm  for  his  wife. 

The  wren  does  not  usually  come  north  until  danger  of 
frost  is  past,  but  when  he  does  come  no  bird  is  more  full  of 
song.  Some  claim  that  the  male  comes  first  and  begins 


306     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

nest  building  within  a  few  days.  Others  claim  that  they 
come  together.  I  have  known  wrens  to  begin  building  the 
day  they  arrived. 

When  the  brood  leave  the  nest,  they  follow  the  parents 
through  the  bushes  and  garden,  seldom  more  than  a  few 
feet  behind.  For  once  the  father  is  silent,  seeming  to 
realize  that  their  safety  depends  on  their  moving  unseen 
until  the  young  are  better  able  to  fly.  It  is  interesting  to 
see  how  eager  the  young  birds  are  to  catch  their  first  worm. 
At  first  the  parents  catch  the  worms,,  and  give  them  to  the 
youngster  that  is  nearest.  Within  a  day  or  two  the  parent 
finds  the  worm,  but  leaves  it  for  the  youngster  to  catch. 
Within  a  week  or  two  the  young  birds  have  completed  their 
education  and  are  left  to  shift  for  themselves.  Then  the 
parents  return  to  the  nest  to  rear  a  new  brood. 

Sally's  plucky  temper,  coupled  with  the  inborn  hatred 
for  the  race  of  cats,  finally  brought  about  her  undoing. 
She  felt  it  was  her  duty  to  chase  all  dogs  and  cats  out  of 
the  neighborhood  of  her  nest.  Usually  wrens  are  content 
with  scolding  and  complaining  whenever  a  dog  or  cat 
comes  near,  but  Sally  came  to  the  point  where  she  did  not 
hesitate  to  fly  straight  into  the  face  of  a  cat  or  dog,  and 
usually  the  astonished  beast  would  run.  One  day  she  be- 
came too  bold  and  reckless.  Her  last  brood  had  been  fly- 
ing only  a  day  or  two  and  were  not  very  sure  of  their 
wings.  Doubtless  she  was  unusually  anxious  to  drive 
away  the  old  cat  that  came  to  sit  on  the  front  door  step. 
She  chased  it  around  the  house,  but  that  did  not  satisfy 
her.  Finally  the  outraged  cat  stopped,  crouched,  and  as 
Sallie  swooped  struck  her  with  his  paw  and  before  any  one 
could  interfere  she  was  no  more. 


XL  VIII 

THE  BROWN  CREEPER 

NOT  many  days  after  Creepy  appeared  on  the  willow 
tree  I  was  surprised  to  see  a  deep-brown  bird  scarcely 
as  large  as  he  alight  at  the  bottom  of  this  tree  and  begin 
hunting  over  its  surface  in  much  the  same  way  my  nut- 
hatch had  done,  except  that  he  started  at  the  bottom  and 
rapidly  ran  up  instead  of  going  down  headfirst.  Of  course 
I  was  interested  because  these  two  birds  were  so  strangely 
alike  and  yet  so  absolutely  different. 

A  pair  of  these  brown  creepers,  for  such  they  were,  took 
up  their  abode  in  our  yard  and  orchard,  hunting  over  the 
various  trees  but  preferring  the  willow  to  any  of  the  others, 
though  they  hunted  the  pecan  tree  and  the  great  trans- 
cendent crabapple  from  bottom  to  top  almost  every  day. 
It  has  always  seemed  strange  to  me  that  these  birds  will 
hunt  the  same  tree  over  perhaps  half  a  dozen  times  every 
day  for  weeks  and  yet  always  find  some  food  every  few 
moments. 

Many  insects  lay  their  eggs  in  the  rough  bark  of  trees 
and  many  little  creatures  hide  there  in  the  fall  in  order 
to  get  some  measure  of  protection  during  the  winter.  Of 
course  they  are  colored  nearly  like  the  bark,  and  un- 
doubtedly are  growing  to  look  more  like  the  bark  every 
generation,  for  only  those  that  most  closely  resemble  fhe 

807 


308     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

bark  in  which  they  hide  escape  the  sharp  eye  of  the  birds, 
and  naturally  their  offspring  resemble  them.  In  this  way 
nature  is  always  busy  helping  the  creatures  adapt  them- 
selves to  the  hard  situation  in  which  they  find  themselves. 
The  strange  thing  is  that  any  of  these  insects  escape.  I 
am  sure  my  willow  tree  was  hunted  over  regularly  a  dozen 
times  every  day  for  months  not  only  by  the  brown  creepers 
and  the  white-breasted  nuthatch,  but  also  by  a  dozen  or 
more  black-capped  chickadees  and  at  least  one  pair  of 
downy  woodpeckers,  with  a  flicker  and  an  occasional  hairy 
woodpecker  for  good  measure. 

The  brown  creeper  appeared  to  be  the  most  expert  of 
them  all  in  creeping  over  trees  and  gathering  insects.  He 
certainly  moved  much  more  rapidly  over  the  tree.  In 
fact,  he  seemed  fairly  to  run  as  he  went  about  his  work, 
occasionally  stopping  long  enough  to  give  a  happy  little 
chirp. 

These  birds  were  jolly  little  creatures,  not  in  the  least 
selfish  or  ill  natured;  for  should  the  chickadees  or  the 
nuthatch  appear  on  the  tree  when  the  creepers  were  there, 
they  made  no  protest  whatever,  but  all  worked  together, 
each  willing  to  take  what  he  could  find,  doubtless 
feeling  that  the  bounties  of  nature  belong  to  all  alike  and 
that  the  one  who  is  the  most  industrious  will  win  in  the 
end.  As  I  stated  in  the  last  story,  the  nuthatch  seldom 
worked  on  anything  but  the  trunk,  leaving  the  limbs  for 
the  chickadees;  but  this  was  not  true  of  the  brown  creeper. 
He  would  often  run  along  on  the  under  side  of  limbs,  look- 
ing almost  like  a  mouse  running  across  the  top  of  a  beam, 
so  rapidly  did  he  go,  yet  he  always  kept  a  sharp  lookout  for 
anything  to  eat. 

He  seemed  methodical  in  his  work,  usually  going  rourid 


THE  BROWN  CREEPER  309 

and  round  his  tree,  though  sometimes  he  hunted  in  a 
straight  line  up  the  trunk  and  then  flew  to  the  bottom 
and  started  again  at  another  place.  He  did  not  hop  or 
hobble  about,  as  does  the  woodpecker;  he  was  far  too 
nimble  for  that. 

Many  of  my  readers  may  find  it  difficult  to  locate  this 
bird  or  at  least  to  examine  him  well,  because  he  is  shy. 
It  is  not  so  much  that  he  avoids  our  presence  as  that  he 
does  not  like  to  be  seen.  He  may  be  hunting  on  a  tree 
within  ten  feet  of  you  and  yet  you  never  suspect  his  pres- 
ence, for  he  will  be  working  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
tree,  stopping  each  time  just  before  coming  around  far 
enough  to  be  seen. 

As  my  bedroom  window  was  only  ten  or  fifteen  feet  from 
the  trunk  of  the  willow,  this  was  a  good  place  from  which 
to  watch  this  bird.  He  was  dark  brown  above,  showing 
a  slightly  reddish  shade,  each  feather  being  streaked  cen- 
trally with  whitish,  although  this  blended  into  the  brown. 
The  rump  was  rufous  and  the  under  parts  were  almost  pure 
silky  white,  and  there  was  a  white  streak  over  each  eye  and 
a  few  whitish  streaks  about  the  ear  coverts.  The  edges  of 
the  tail  feathers  were  wood-brown,  and  there  was  a  pale 
huffish  white  bar  across  each  wing.  He  was  about  five 
and  a  half  inches  long  from  the  end  of  the  long,  sharp, 
slender  bill  to  the  end  of  the  tail.  The  bill  was  about  as 
long  as  the  head. 

From  this  description  you  should  have  no  trouble  in 
locating  this  bird  and  identifying  him.  If  you  see  one 
alight  on  a  tree  and  quickly  creep  around  to  the  other  side, 
sit  down  by  the  nearest  tree  or  stand  perfectly  quiet,  and 
it  will  not  be  long  till,  noticing  everything  is  still,  he 
will  come  around  to  your  side  of  the  tree,  and  doubtless 


810     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

will  be  so  intent  on  his  hunting  that  he  will  not  notice 
you. 

In  order  to  attract  these  birds,  it  is  well  to  fasten  pieces 
of  suet  or  bits  of  fresh  meat  on  the  bark  of  tree  trunks.  It 
will  not  be  long  until  one  or  another  of  these  little  tree 
hunters  will  find  it,  and  if  you  continue  to  put  it  out  they 
will  soon  form  the  habit  of  coming  for  it  every  day. 

This  bird  remained  all  winter  with  us  in  Southern  Iowa, 
though  further  north  he  migrates  late  in  the  fall.  Of 
course  he  is  easiest  to  find  in  the  winter  when  birds  are 
few  and  the  leaves  are  off  the  trees.  But  if  you  are 
sharp-eyed  you  will  find  him  even  in  the  summer  in  the 
north. 

Most  of  my  readers  are  interested  in  birds'  nests,  and  I 
have  described  the  nest  of  most  of  the  birds  whose  stories 
I  have  told  because  often  the  finding  of  the  nest  leads  to 
the  identification  of  the  owner.  The  brown  creeper  builds 
in  any  available  place  like  a  split  limb,  a  cleft  in  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  or  in  the  opening  beneath  a  piece  of  loose 
bark.  The  five  or  six  eggs  are  rather  unique  in  that  they 
are  a  delicate  rosy  white  marked  with  brown.  He  is  to  be 
found  at  some  time  of  the  year  almost  all  over  the  United 
States. 


XLIX 

CREEPY  THE  WHITE-BREASTED  NUTHATCH 

IT  WAS  a  cold  morning  a  few  days  after  the  events  that 
led  to  the  feeding  of  my  chickadees  that  I  first  met 
Creepy.  I  was  attracted  by  a  cry  of  cha-cha-cha-cha-cha- 
cha-ank.  Looking  up  I  saw  a  little  ashy  blue  bird  creep- 
ing about  on  the  old  willow  tree.  He  was  not  much  larger 
than  a  chickadee  and  the  top  of  his  head  and  his  neck 
were  black,  which  alone  might  remind  one  of  the  chicka- 
dee ;  but  here  the  resemblance  ceased.  The  under  parts  of 
the  head  and  the  belly  and  breast  were  white.  His  bill 
was  sharp  and  unusually  long  for  so  small  a  bird.  As  I 
stood  watching  him,  he  suddenly  stopped  in  his  course 
down  the  tree  raised  his  head  saucily  and  looked  at  me  as 
much  as  to  say,  "Who  are  you?  What  have  you  to  say 
about  it?" 

Doubtless  this  bird  had  lived  about  our  house  all  my 
life,  but  for  some  reason  he  had  never  made  any  impression 
on  me.  Possibly  the  fact  that  I  had  recently  begun  feed- 
ing the  chickadees  had  increased  my  interest  in  birds  and 
made  me  notice  them  where  I  might  not  have  done  so 
before. 

Sleet  had  fallen  the  night  before  and  everything  was 
covered  with  ice  except  the  under  side  of  large  limbs  and 
a  narrow  strip  on  one  side  of  the  large  trees.  This  old 
willow  was  a  great  favorite  of  mine.  When  father  bought 

811 


312     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  claim  and  decided  on  the  site  of  the  house  he  stuck  a 
small  yellow  willow  switch  in  the  ground,  remarking  that 
he  would  soon  have  shade  over  the  kitchen  door.  Nothing 
roots  more  easily  than  a  yellow  willow,  and  it  was  not  sur- 
prising that  this  twig  should  have  taken  root  at  once  and 
quickly  grown  into  a  nice  little  tree.  By  the  time  I  was 
old  enough  to  take  notice  it  was  the  largest  tree  in  the 
yard.  Its  long,  drooping  twigs  furnished  the  switches 
that  stirred  up  my  memory  when  I  was  inclined  to  depart 
from  the  straight  way,  and  its  larger  branches  furnished 
a  proper  support  for  my  rope  swing,  while  there  were 
always  several  birds'  nests  higher  up.  It  was  the  first  tree 
to  bloom  in  the  spring  and  it  filled  the  house  with  fra- 
grance and  furnished  the  golden  pollen  that  stimulated  the 
bees  to  brood  rearing.  Its  bark  had  grown  furrowed  and 
rugged,  and  provided  the  best  place  imaginable  for  insects 
to  hide  over  winter. 

This  white-breasted  nuthatch  (for  that  is  what  he  was) 
evidently  had  come  to  this  willow  as  a  last  resort  in  hopes 
of  finding  some  breakfast.  When  I  first  saw  him  he  was 
under  a  large  limb  just  starting  down  the  trunk  of  the 
tree  with  his  head  downward.  I  was  dumbfounded  to  see 
a  bird  sit,  apparently  perfectly  comfortable,  on  the  side  of 
a  tree  with  his  head  down  and  especially  to  hear  him  sing- 
ing as  if  he  enjoyed  the  situation.  Tho  on  my  way 
for  a  load  of  wood,  I  stopped  to  watch  the  unique  sight. 
This  bird  was  moving  over  the  trunk  of  the  tree  prying 
into  every  nook  and  crevice,  picking  up  a  morsel  here  and 
another  there,  as  busy  as  could  be.  He  worked  his  way 
down  the  tree  until  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  snow  and 
then  with  a  "cha-cha"  flew  to  join  the  chickadees  in  the 
garden. 


CREEPY,  WHITE-BREASTED  NUTHATCH  313 

When  I  fed  these  birds  I  noticed  he  was  still  with  them, 
and  I  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  they  were  really 
chums,  that  he  and  another  of  his  kind  were  to  be  found 
with  this  flock  of  chickadees  almost  any  time  in  the  day. 
When  their  crumbs  were  scattered  on  the  snow,  Creepy 
did  not  hesitate  to  feed  with  them,  although  at  other  time& 
he  seldom  alighted  on  the  ground.  Chickadees  hunt  the 
trees  for  insects  and  their  eggs  as  carefully  as  do  any  of 
the  woodpeckers  or  nuthatches,  but  Creepy  and  these  birds 
hunted  together  in  perfect  harmony  and  never  seemed  to 
infringe  on  each  other's  territory.  The  top  of  the  tree  and 
the  branches  evidently  belonged  to  the  chickadees  while 
the  trunk  was  the  special  property  of  the  nuthatches. 

Creepy  invariably  alighted  on  the  tree  pretty  well  up 
and  hunted  downward,  which  means  that  his  head  was 
down  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  These  birds  are  even 
more  expert  at  crawling  about  on  the  bark  of  a  tree,  taking 
any  sort  of  position  imaginable,  than  are  the  woodpeckers. 
Their  toes  are  long  and  stout  and  are  armed  with  power- 
ful claws  which  enable  them  to  hold  firmly  to  the  side  of 
any  tree.  I  have  seen  one  of  these  birds  sitting  on  the  side 
of  a  tree  with  its  head  upward  and  then  without  letting 
loose  of  the  tree  at  all  with  one  foot,  turn  completely 
around  until  the  head  was  downward,  the  foot  still  point- 
ing upward.  To  me  it  is  as  marvelous  to  see  one  of  these 
birds  turn  almost  completely  around  without  changing  a 
foot  as  it  is  to  see  the  owl  turn  his  head  more  than  half 
way  round  to  gaze  at  me. 

These  birds  are  found  practically  everywhere,  though" 
they  are  never  numerous.  If  you  look  sharply  you  will 
have  no  trouble  in  locating  them  in  the  winter  time  when 
the  trees  are  bare  and  other  birds  are  scarce.  If  they 


814     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

migrate  at  all  it  is  only  occasionally  and  for  a  short  dis- 
tance. They  are  smaller  than  any  of  the  woodpeckers 
and  are  not  so  brilliantly  marked.  The  bill  is  more  slen- 
der, and  you  should  have  no  trouble  in  identifying  them 
by  this  mark  alone. 

Creepy  and  his  wife  hunted  through  our  orchard,  gar- 
den, and  yard  until  spring,  when  they  decided  that  the 
old  willow  tree  that  had  proved  their  salvation  in  the  win- 
ter was  the  most  satisfactory  place  for  their  summer  home. 
They  selected  a  limb  perhaps  four  inches  in  diameter 
about  twenty-five  feet  from  the  ground  and  began  the  work 
of  pecking  a  hole  in  it.  They  worked  with  a  will  and 
made  the  chips  fairly  fly  for  three  or  four  days.  They 
were  a  happy  little  pair,  both  working  with  a  will,  con- 
gratulating each  other  every  few  moments.  These  birds 
seemed  even  more  expert  at  chiseling  out  a  nest  hole  than 
the  woodpecker ;  but,  unfortunately  for  me,  they  made  their 
hole  so  small  that  my  hand  would  not  go  into  it.  A  rye 
straw  pushed  in,  however,  showed  that  it  was  at  least 
fourteen  inches  deep.  I  do  not  know  how  many  eggs  these 
birds  laid,  but  five  to  eight  is  the  usual  number,  and  they 
are  of  a  pearly  white  color,  slightly  marked  with  lilac  or 
rusty  yellow. 

No  bird  could  have  been  a  better  husband  than  Creepy. 
He  was  a  hard  worker,  doing  fully  as  much  of  the  nest 
making  as  his  wife,  fluttering  over  and  hopping  about  her 
while  she  worked.  When  the  hole  was  several  inches  deep 
and  his  wife  was  taking  her  turn  at  drilling  he  would  peep 
in  with  the  greatest  concern  if  she  stayed  too  long,  and 
when  she  was  sitting  he  remained  near  by  to  keep  her  from 
becoming  lonesome,  not  forgetting  to  feed  her  every  little 
while.  When  she  left  the  nest  for  a  little  airing,  he  mani- 


CREEPY,  WHITE-BREASTED  NUTHATCH  315 

fested  his  delight  by  strutting  about  and  hopping  over  her, 
then  rushing  for  a  beetle  to  feed  her. 

Early  in  June  I  became  aware  that  there  were  young 
birds  in  the  nest,  for  the  parents  were  kept  busy  carrying 
food  from  morning  till  night.  They  not  only  fed  cater- 
pillars and  small  insects  that  they  caught  on  the  trees,  but 
did  not  hesitate,  when  other  food  was  scarce,  to  alight  on 
the  ground  and  hunt  among  the  leaves  and  grass.  In 
the  winter  we  had  formed  the  habit  of  putting  out  bits  of 
suet  and  in  warmer  days  bits  of  fresh  meat  for  these  birds, 
which  came  to  look  for  this  food  every  day.  We  ceased 
doing  this  in  the  spring,  but  now  when  they  had  a  family 
to  feed  these  birds  appreciated  a  piece  of  suet  as  much  as  in 
the  winter.  By  the  middle  of  July  the  young  birds  left 
the  nest.  Creepy  continued  to  feed  his  children  for  some 
time  and  seemed  proud  of  them.  They  raised  five  to 
maturity. 


THE  BLACK-CAPPED  CHICKADEE 

ONE  cold  winter  day  I  had  been  kept  in  the  house  all 
morning.  My  health  had  never  been  very  good  and 
I  had  been  suffering  considerably  from  sore  throat,  rheu- 
matism, etc.  The  most  trying  thing  in  the  world  for  a 
boy  is  to  be  kept  indoors  where  it  seems  to  him  nothing 
of  any  importance  is  going  on  and  he  knows  there  is  so 
much  of  interest  outside.  I  was  disconsolately  looking  out 
of  the  window  at  the  drifts  of  snow  when  mother  stepped 
to  the  door  and  threw  out  the  crumbs  she  had  brushed 
from  the  table.  The  wind  whirled  these  crumbs  over 
the  snow  until  they  were  caught  in  an  eddy  near  my  win- 
dow. Almost  immediately  a  flock  of  half  a  dozen  jolly  little 
birds  with  black  heads,  tails  and  wings  alighted  on  the 
snow  and  began  picking  up  these  crumbs  and  singing 
"Chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee"  as  happily  as  if  they  had  been 
invited  to  a  banquet.  Indeed  they  might  well  have  thought 
they  had  been  invited  to  a  banquet,  for  the  winter  had 
been  so  cold  and  the  snow  so  deep  that  it  must  have  been 
hard  indeed  to  find  food. 

These  were  chickadees.  They  said  so  themselves,  as 
plainly  as  could  be,  and  then  to  prove  the  matter  I  asked 
mother  and  she  confirmed  their  word.  I  watched  them 
until  they  had  cleaned  up  the  crumbs  and  marvelled  at 

816 


THE  BLACK-CAPPED  CHICKADEE         317 

their  peaceful  ways  and  the  liberality  with  which  they 
shared  this  meager  meal.  There  was  no  quarreling  over 
which  should  get  the  best  crumbs,  and  no  matter  how 
anxious  a  bird  was  to  feed  he  never  failed  to  stop  and  sing 
his  thankfulness  every  few  moments.  When  the  last  crumbs 
were  gone,  away  they  whirled  into  the  garden  and  began 
picking  over  for  the  thousandth  time  every  old  sunflower 
head  and  Indian  lettuce  plant  in  sight.  I  then  conceived  a 
great  admiration  for  these  happy  little  birds.  Talk  about 
bravery,  I  know  of  nothing  more  courageous  than  these  tiny 
feathered  creatures  which  defy  the  winter's  snow  and  ice 
where  the  temperature  falls  to  twenty  or  more  degrees  be- 
low zero  rather  than  forsake  the  home  they  love.  I  have 
never  seen  a  winter  so  cold  that  many  chickadees  did  not 
remain  with  us,  and  I  have  never  seen  them  when  they  were 
not  apparently  as  active  and  as  happy  as  in  the  summer 
time. 

That  was  the  winter  I  have  already  mentioned  in  this 
book  when  the  snow  was  so  deep  that  we  could  drive  any- 
where we  pleased  over  fences  and  creeks.  This  incident 
of  the  crumbs  gave  me  an  idea  and,  after  talking  the 
matter  over  with  mother,  she  gave  me  permission  to  feed 
these  birds  every  .day.  So  after  that  memorable  forenoon 
the  crumbs  from  the  table  were  always  placed  either  on  the 
window  sill  or  scattered  on  the  snow.  Somewhere,  I  read 
a  little  story  about  putting  out  a  sheaf  of  wheat  for  the 
birds  at  Christmas,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  this  was  a 
fine  thing  for  Christmas  it  must  be  equally  desirable  every 
day.  We  did  not  have  any  sheaves  of  wheat,  but  our  barn 
floor  was  usually  covered  several  inches  deep  with  chaff  and 
in  this  there  was  not  only  an  abundance  of  timothy  and 
clover  seed  but  a  good  many  grains  of  wheat  as  well.  After 


318     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

the  day  mentioned  above  it  was  our  practise  not  only  care- 
fully to  save  the  crumbs  from  the  table  but  to  get  chaff 
from  the  barn  floor  and  scatter  it  over  the  snow.  It  was 
surprising  how  soon  these  little  birds  came  to  expect  their 
food  and  how  tame  they  became.  After  breakfast  and 
after  dinner  they  were  sure  to  be  sitting  about  near  the 
house  waiting  for  their  crumbs.  When  they  were  brought 
these  birds  would  come  in  a  troop  and  clean  them  up. 

Gradually  I  began  to  put  little  bits  of  suet  and  pieces 
of  bread,  oat  meal,  etc.,  on  the  window  sill,  and  it  did 
not  take  the  birds  long  to  find  this  treasure.  Sometimes 
ten  or  twelve  birds  would  be  feeding  on  the  window  sill 
at  once,  and  they  paid  no  attention  to  us  even  tho  we 
came  within  two  feet  of  them  on  the  other  side  of  the 
glass.  Every  day  the  flock  increased  in  size. 

But  chickadees  were  not  the  only  birds  that  came.  There 
were  at  least  two  or  three  other  birds  that  frequently  ac- 
companied the  chickadees  and  apparently  lived  with  them. 
These  were  the  ruby-crowned  and  the  golden-crowned  king- 
lets. The  kinglets  are  smaller  than  the  chickadee,  but 
can  be  distinguished  from  them  by  the  color  of  the  head 
and  wings.  The  head  of  the  chickadee  is  black,  while  the 
kinglets  have  either  a  yellow  and  orange  or  a  scarlet  crest 
on  the  head,  the  rest  of  the  head  being  more  or  less  brown. 
The  white-breasted  nuthatch  was  also  often  in  the  com- 
pany. We  called  all  of  them  "snow  birds/'  which  is  their 
common  name  over  much  of  the  country. 

These  birds  feed  almost  entirely  on  weed  seeds  and  in- 
sects, but  of  course  they  will  feed  on  crumbs  or  even 
wheat,  especially  in  the  winter  when  other  food  is  scarce. 
They  are  valuable  because  they  eat  many  times  their  own 
weight  in  weed  seeds,  as  well  as  many  noxious  insects  every 


THE  BLACK-CAPPED  CHICKADEE         319 

year.  There  is  really  no  excuse  for  killing  a  chickadee,  for 
it  not  only  cheers  us  on  a  cold,  wintry  day,  but  is  always 
our  friend  and  helper.  And  it  is  so  small  that  no  one 
could  possibly  have  any  use  for  it  for  the  table. 

As  soon  as  we  have  the  first  suggestion  of  spring,  usually 
in  February,  the  chickadee  begins  singing  a  new  song,  a 
very  sweet  "Phoe-e-bee,"  not  at  all  like  the  jerky  song  of 
the  phoebe  bird,  but  to  my  mind  much  more  like  the 
word.  The  little  call  is  so  seductive  that  it  is  no  wonder 
it  never  fails  to  win  the  singer  a  bride.  When  she  ap- 
pears, the  singer  finds  that  he  has  several  other  notes  he 
can  perform,  especially  a  catchy  yodel  of  delight. 

When  nesting  time  comes  they  hunt  up  an  abandoned 
hole  made  by  a  woodpecker  or  a  nuthatch,  or  a  natural 
cavity,  or  if  none  is  handy,  dig  one  for  themselves  in  a 
decaying  tree,  and  line  it  well  with  moss,  fur,  feathers,  or 
other  soft  material.  This  hole  is  seldom  ten  feet  from  the 
ground  and  is  often  in  an  old  fence  post.  They  lay  as 
many  as  eight  white  eggs,  lightly  speckled  with  reddish 
or  lilac  brown  spots. 


LI 

THE  BLUE-GRAY  GNATCATCHER 

NEAE  our  grapevine  playhouse,  where  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  so  many  of  my  birds,  early  one  spring 
there  appeared  a  little  stranger  that  I  at  first  mistook  for 
a  small  bluebird.  I  watched  him  carefully  and  finally 
got  near  enough  to  see  that  he  could  not  possibly  be  a 
bluebird,  at  least  not  the  kind  with  which  I  was  familiar, 
for  instead  of  his  breast  being  red-brown  and  his  belly 
white,  his  entire  underparts  are  whitish  gray.  More  than 
that,  his  tail  was  black,  bordered  with  white,  and  even  the 
wings  were  brownish  black,  especially  toward  the  tips, 
which  were  bordered  with  blue-gray. 

The  day  was  fine  and  in  the  open  places  near  the  woods 
there  were  many  swarms  of  small  flies  or  gnats.  This 
little  stranger  was  busily  engaged  in  catching  these  in- 
sects. He  would  fly  back  and  forth  through  the  danc- 
ing swarm  and  every  time  he  caught  one  or  more  of  them. 
Evidently  he  was  hungry,  after  his  long  journey  from  the 
great  Southland,  or  possibly  he  especially  liked  these  gnats. 
At  any  rate  he  spent  a  full  half  hour  catching  gnats  with- 
out stopping  to  rest  for  a  moment. 

I  asked  mother  what  this  strange  new  bird  could  be, 
but  she  was  not  able  to  tell  me,  so  the  next  day  we  went 
to  the  woods  together  to  see  if  we  could  find  the  little 

820 


THE  BLUE-GRAY  GNATCATCHER          321 

stranger.  Surely  enough  he  was  at  almost  the  same  spot, 
feeding  on  flies.  We  managed  to  creep  up  close  enough 
to  see  that  this  bird  was  not  a  bright  blue,  but  a  gray 
blue. 

When  hunting  he  would  fly  a  short  distance  this  way  and 
a  short  distance  the  other,  jerking  his  tail  up  and  down  as 
if  it  was  hard  work  to  keep  his  balance.  In  fact,  this  habit 
of  jerking  his  tail  up  and  down  while  flying  is  one  of  the 
easiest  ways  to  identify  the  blue-gray  flycatcher,  for  few 
other  birds  do  this.  When  he  alighted,  it  was  on  the  tip 
of  a  twig,  and  he  often  hung  to  the  last  bunch  of  leaves 
rather  than  light  on  the  twig  itself.  This  is  another  char- 
acteristic of  his. 

I  think  I  have  never  seen  one  of  these  birds  light  well 
back  on  a  limb  where  he  could  secure  a  good  foothold,  tho 
others  say  that  he  does  so.  As  a  result,  when  he  alights 
on  the  end  of  a  twig,  he  has  to  keep  jerking  his  tail  up 
and  down  to  preserve  his  balance,  and  he  even  finds  it 
necessary  to  droop  his  wings  to  help  him  cling  to  the  twig 
on  which  he  roosts.  He  seldom  if  ever  alights  on  the 
ground  even  to  drink  and  I  have  never  seen  him  take  a 
bath.  When  thirsty  he  sometimes  sips  the  drops  of  dew 
from  the  end  of  the  twigs  or  of  the  leaves. 

The  nest  is  built  of  very  frail  material,  and  tho  the 
bird  is  scarcely  larger  than  a  house  wren  the  nest  seems 
small  even  for  so  tiny  a  bird.  It  is  built  mostly  of  dried 
leaves  and  bud  scales,  etc.,  tied  together  by  the  silken  fibre 
of  plants  and  flowers  and  the  inner  bark  of  weeds.  Lichens 
are  fastened  on  the  outside,  while  the  lining  is  of  moss, 
down,  and  horse  hairs.  It  is  firmly  attached  to  two  twigs, 
usually  near  the  end  of  a  limb.  These  birds,  living  as  they 
do  on  small  insects,  many  of  which  breed  in  the  water, 


322     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

prefer   to   live  near  creeks  or   ponds   and   to  build   in 
low  trees. 

Altho  they  live  in  most  parts  of  the  United  States,  ex- 
cept the  extreme  North,  they  are  not  common  in  many 
places,  and  their  tiny  frail  nest  is  difficult  to  find.  They 
lay  four  or  five  white  or  bluish-white  eggs  with  a  few  red- 
dish dots  at  the  large  end,  and  often  rear  two  broods  each 
year.  As  soon  as  the  young  are  able  to  fly  they  hunt  with 
the  parents.  At  such  times  half  a  dozen  or  more  may  be 
found  in  a  flock  busily  engaged  catching  tiny  insects.  Their 
common  note  is  a  "Tswee,  tswee,"  but  this  has  a  musical 
tone.  They  arrive  late  in  the  spring  and  leave  early  in 
the  fall,  and  generally  spend  the  winter  south  of  the 
United  States. 


[LII 

THE  WOOD  THRUSH 

WHENEVER  I  visit  Asheville,  North  Carolina,  dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  I  am  always  impressed 
with  the  wonderfully  sweet  voice  of  the  wood  thrush.  This 
bird  is  more  abundant  there  than  in  any  other  place  I 
remember  visiting.  From  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  until 
after  dark  I  am  especially  pleased  with  his  wonderfully 
musical  call,  "Chit-a-link,  chee-wee-eee."  In  the  morning 
I  listen  to  this  song  from  daylight  until  seven  or  eight 
o'clock.  Sometimes  he  sings  during  the  day,  but  his  song 
never  sounds  so  sweet  or  musical  as  in  the  evening. 

The  wood  thrush,  or,  as  the  mountain  people  call  it,  the 
"chitalink,"  is  well  known  as  a  wonderfully  sweet  songster 
even  though  he  sings  only  a  few  notes.  If  he  had  the  won- 
derful range  of  the  mocking  bird,  he  would  outdistance  all 
competitors  so  far  that  I  am  sure  we  would  cease  to  appre- 
ciate many  of  them  as  we  do  now.  This  bird  has  several 
notes,  but  we  usually  hear  only  three  or  four.  Clear  and 
musical  as  a  silvery  bell,  no  matter  how  often  we  hear 
them  they  never  become  monotonous  or  tiresome. 

This  bird  is  well  named  the  wood  thrush,  for  he  lovea 
the  deep  woods  and  means  to  keep  himself  concealed  there- 
in. So  shy  is  he  that  when  he  alights  he  usually  manages 
to  sit  near  some  stump  or  tree  trunk  the  color  of  which 
matches  his  own  so  completely  that  he  is  difficult  to  see. 

323 


324     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

I  find  many  people  who  are  familiar  with  this  bird's 
song  who  do  not  recognize  him  by  sight  because  he  is  so 
seldom  seen,  and  when  he  is  seen  it  is  seldom  while  he  is 
singing.  In  shape  he  much  resembles  the  brown  thrasher 
or  the  mocking  bird,  having  the  same  general  conforma- 
tion of  body,  but  a  shorter  tail.  The  color  above  is  a  cinna- 
mon brown,  becoming  more  of  a  rufous  on  the  top  of  the 
head.  The  rump  and  tail  are  more  nearly  olive,  the  under 
parts  are  white.  The  breast  and  the  belly  are  thickly 
marked  with  sharply  defined  spots  of  a  blackish  color. 
These  spots  never  extend  to  the  middle  of  the  throat  or 
back  to  the  vent,  however.  The  sides  of  the  head  are 
dark  brown  streaked  with  white,  and  there  are  streaks  on 
each  side  of  the  throat.  He  is  about  eight  inches  long 
from  the  tip  of  the  bill  to  the  tip  of  the  tail.  His  tail 
alone  is  slightly  over  three  inches  long. 

This  wonderful  songster  was  fairly  common  in  our 
home  woods  when  I  was  a  boy;  but  I  did  not  know  him 
by  sight.  I  loved  his  wonderful  voice  but  had  no  idea  to 
what  bird  I  was  listening.  It  remained  for  me  to  come 
South  where  these  birds  are  abundant  to  become  acquainted 
with  them  at  first  hand.  The  wood  thrush  reaches  the 
north  later  than  most  birds.  Audubon  says  that  males  come 
first  by  two  or  three  days,  but  do  not  begin  their  song  until 
their  female  audience  arrives.  When  they  first  come  they 
are  usually  seen  in  small  flocks,  but  when  the  females  arrive 
and  the  courting  begins  they  separate  at  once. 

Their  favorite  home  is  in  the  low  bushes  and  underbrush 
along  streams  and  on  the  borders  of  the  forest.  If 
there  are  any  wild  grapevines  creeping  over  these  trees 
they  are  almost  sure  to  select  such  a  location  for  their 
home.  Early  in  the  morning  they  come  to  our  gardens  and 


THE  WOOD  THRUSH  S25 

orchards  in  search  of  food,  but  they  usually  retire  to  the 
woods  when  the  sun  is  bright,  as  they  might  be  seen. 
However,  I  have  known  them  to  nest  and  live  in  our  back 
yard  here  in  Tennessee,  and  they  are  abundant  even  in  the 
rather  thickly  settled  residence  district  of  Asheville,  North 
Carolina.  One  can  hear  them  practically  any  day  among 
the  trees  on  the  campus  of  the  George  Peabody  College 
or  of  Vanderbilt  University  in  the  heart  of  Nashville.  I 
mention  those  facts  so  as  not  to  give  the  impression  that 
one  must  always  go  to  the  deep  woods  in  order  to  find  wood 
thrushes. 

i  Their  nests  are  usually  built  in  low  bushes,  but  they 
choose  a  bush  that  is  so  thick  that  the  nest  is  not  con- 
spicuous. They  prefer  a  place  near  the  water.  They  con- 
struct their  nest  of  leaves,  grass,  weeds,  etc.,  making  a 
rather  beautiful  nest.  Mud  is  used  in  the  outer  part,  but 
the  nest  is  usually  lined  with  moss  and  soft  fine  grass  and 
roots.  Four  eggs  are  most  commonly  laid  and  these  are 
of  a  uniform  light  blue. 


THE  AMERICAN  ROBIN 

THE  enow  had  piled  deeper,  the  winds  howled  more 
fiercely  and  the  ice  on  the  rivers  was  deeper  than  in 
any  year  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  settlers.  The 
fences  everywhere  were  buried  beneath  piles  of  glistening 
white,  and  to  one  who  did  not  know  better  the  whole  coun- 
try appeared  to  be  one  great  field.  The  crust  on  the  snow 
was  eo  hard  that  men  drove  with  team  and  sleigh  anywhere 
they  chose  to  go  over  fences  and  creeks  without  the  least 
fear. 

Father  had  bought  some  timber  far  down  on  the  Skunk 
River  bottom.  One  day  he  decided  there  would  never  be 
a  better  opportunity  to  get  this  wood  than  while  he  could 
load  it  on  a  bobsled  and  bring  it  home  directly  across  the 
fields,  thereby  saving  two  or  three  miles.  Accordingly,  the 
axes  were  ground,  the  crosscut  saw  filed,  and  early  the  next 
morning  the  team  was  hitched  to  the  bobsled,  my  two 
brothers  and  I  were  tucked  in,  and  we  all  started  for  the 
timber.  I  was  still  a  child,  and  my  part  of  the  job  con- 
sisted in  piling  brush  and  playing  about  watching  for 
squirrels.  The  day  was  bright  and  turned  out  to  be  warmer 
than  usual.  The  bobsled  was  left  several  rods  from  where 
we  were  cutting  timber,  so  that  there  would  be  no  danger 
of  trees  falling  on  it.  The  horses  were  tied  to  the  sled  and 
plenty  of  hay  and  grain  heaped  in  it  for  them. 


THE  AMERICAN  ROBIN  327 

When  we  stopped  for  dinner  and  started  toward  the 
bobsled,  I  was  surprized  to  see  a  robin  sitting  on  the  hay 
picking  at  the  timothy  heads.  As  I  have  said,  the  winter 
had  been  exceptionally  cold  and  there  was  no  sign  of  spring 
anywhere.  My  whole  experience  with  robins  had  led  me 
to  take  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  they  all  went  South 
and  stayed  there  till  the  snow  melted  off  in  the  spring. 
When  we  got  closer  we  found  a  second  robin  in  the  hind 
part  of  the  sled.  I  promptly  raised  the  question  why  the 
robins  had  come  back  so  early  in  the  spring.  To  my  sur- 
prize, father  told  me  they  had  not  come  back  at  all  but 
had  remained  all  winter  deep  in  the  forest,  and  that  they 
had  been  feeding  on  hackberries,  weed  seeds,  and  other  food 
to  be  found  there.  Since  then  I  have  found  other  robins 
in  the  dead  of  winter  and  as  far  north  as  the  middle  of  the 
State  of  Iowa.  It  seems  that  robins  do  not  go  south  be- 
cause they  dread  the  cold  weather  but  because  the  food 
eupply  will  become  low  and  they  must  seek  regions  where 
things  are  growing  or  starve. 

Over  most  of  our  country  the  American  robin  is  one  of 
the  best  known  and  most  loved  birds.  Here  again  we 
have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  giving  the  name  of  an  English 
bird  to  one  to  which  it  does  not  belong.  The  English 
robin  has  a  red  breast  and  is  known  all  over  the  continent 
as  robin  redbreast.  Possibly  because  our  robin  has  a  dull 
brick-colored  breast  it  has  received  the  same  name,  but 
the  American  bird  differs  in  many  respects  from  the  Eng- 
lish robin  redbreast.  In  fact,  they  do  not  belong  to  the 
same  sub-family. 

Our  robins  take  delight  in  human  companionship,  and 
often  nest  near  houses.  The  most  of  the  nests  I  found  as 
a  boy  were  in  our  orchard;  but  one  year  a  robin  nested  in 


328     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

a  rose  bush  that  climbed  over  the  front  porch,  and  it  was 
there  that  I  had  opportunity  to  learn  more  about  him  than 
ever  before.  The  robin  must  be  the  proverbial  early  bird 
that  catches  the  worm.  At  any  rate  he  is  up  and  chirping 
with  the  first  streak  of  dawn,  struts  about  on  the  lawn 
for  a  few  moments,  and  before  broad  daylight  is  off  to  a 
pasture  or  meadow  in  search  of  his  breakfast.  Alighting 
on  the  ground,  away  he  goes  hoppety-hop,  jumping  up  and 
down  on  the  ground  as  hard  as  possible,  making  several 
hops  without  traveling  more  than  a  foot  or  two,  and  then 
stopping  to  peer  very  carefully  at  the  ground  near  by.  I 
used  to  wonder  why  robins  travel  in  this  particular  way, 
and  it  was  not  until  a  few  years  ago  that  I  discovered  the 
secret.  I  had  left  the  soil  in  one  bench  in  our  greenhouse 
two  years  without  disturbing  it,  as  I  had  a  number  of 
plants  growing  there  that  bloom  better  the  second  year 
than  the  first.  In  the  spring  I  decided  to  mix  this  soil 
with  fresh  soil  and  to  use  it  in  potting  young  bedding 
plants. 

I  went  to  the  greenhouse  one  morning  before  sunrise, 
piled  some  fresh  dirt  on  a  corner  of  this  bench  and  started 
potting  plants.  I  had  not  noticed  any  angleworms  when  I 
began,  but  in  only  a  few  minutes  a  number  were  crawling 
over  the  surface  of  the  ground,  while  others  were  sticking 
their  heads  and  part  of  their  bodies  out  of  their  holes.  I 
had  two  or  three  pet  baby  chickens  and  thinking  they 
might  enjoy  some  fresh  worms  for  breakfast,  I  brought 
them  in,  intending  to  let  them  run  over  the  bench  while 
I  worked.  I  was  gone  only  a  few  minutes,  but  when  I  re- 
turned there  was  not  a  worm  in  sight,  so  I  dropped  the 
chickens  on  the  greenhouse  floor,  where  they  ran  back  and 
forth  looking  for  anything  they  might  find,  and  I  again 


THE  AMERICAN  ROBIN  329 

started  potting  plants.  It  was  only  a  few  minutes  before 
worms  were  again  sticking  out  their  heads  and  crawling 
out  of  the  ground.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the  jarring  of 
the  soil  might  be  painful  to  those  angleworms,  so  I  started 
to  experiment.  Waiting  until  the  worms  had  crawled 
back  into  the  earth,  I  took  my  trowel  and  tapped  here  and 
there  near  the  openings  of  several  holes.  I  could  never 
tap  more  than  a  few  times  before  the  worms  popped  their 
heads  out,  sometimes  coming  completely  out  and  crawling 
to  a  place  that  was  less  disturbed.  About  the  time  I  be- 
came really  convinced  that  this  jarring  of  the  soil  was  ac- 
tually painful  to  these  worms  and  caused  them  to  come  to 
the  surface,  I  happened  to  look  out  through  the  glass  and 
saw  a  robin  hopping  up  and  down  on  the  damp  ground. 
Presently  he  caught  hold  of  an  angleworm  and  began  pull- 
ing backward  to  get  it  out  of  the  ground.  The  secret  was 
out !  The  robin  had  known  better  than  I  that  when  angle- 
worms are  feeding  near  the  surface,  as  they  are  early  in  the 
morning  or  in  wet  times,  jumping  up  and  down  on  the 
earth  will  cause  them  to  stick  out  their  heads,  and  then 
they  become  an  easy  prey.  I  have  watched  this  with  field 
glasses  and  in  other  ways  a  great  many  times  since,  and 
have  become  convinced  that  there  is  some  connection  be- 
tween the  hopping  of  these  birds  and  their  feeding  on 
angleworms. 

But  to  return  to  my  nest  in  the  rose  bush  over  the 
porch.  The  birds  began  the  nest  by  bringing  fine  straw, 
grass,  a  few  bits  of  twine  string,  some  tough  roots  and  a 
few  leaves,  and  weaving  all  into  the  form  of  a  strong  nest. 
Then  soft  mud  was  brought,  so  soft  that  water  would  run 
out  of  it,  and  was  literally  thrown  into  this  mass  of  nest 
material.  When  the  entire  nest  was  saturated  with  this 


330     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

soft  mud,  the  mother  bird  hopped  into  it  and  wallowed 
first  one  way  and  then  another  until  she  had  not  only 
pressed  this  mud  well  into  the  nest  material,  but  had 
shaped  it  to  fit  her  body.  Next,  before  this  was  dry,  it  was 
lined  with  soft  fine  grass,  neatly  woven  together  and  se- 
curely stuck  to  the  mud. 

Robins  do  not  require  mud  in  order  to  build  a  nest, 
however.  I  saw  one  only  recently  that  had  no  mud  at  all 
in  its  structure. 

When  the  nest  was  finished  mother  robin  laid  five  light 
greenish  blue  eggs  in  as  many  days  and  then  started  sit- 
ting. She  paid  no  attention  when  a  member  of  the  family 
came  near.  Any  of  us  might  walk  up  within  two  or  three 
feet  of  her  and  stand  gazing  as  long  as  we  chose  and  she 
never  showed  the  least  trace  of  fear;  but  let  a  stranger 
come  into  the  yard  and  she  left  the  nest  immediately.  I 
sometimes  attempted  to  show  friends  how  tame  the  bird 
was,  but  I  fear  many  of  them  thought  I  had  been  telling 
them  a  fish  story  rather  than  a  robin  story,  for  I  never 
could  succeed  in  demonstrating  the  bird's  tameness  to 
them;  mother  robin  recognized  as  fully  as  I  that  they  did 
not  belong  on  the  place  and  she  was  not  sure  what  their 
motives  were. 

When  the  young  birds  hatched,  it  was  interesting  to 
watch  their  daily  menu.  The  robin  feeds  on  almost  any- 
thing except  carrion.  Early  in  the  morning  the  young 
birds  were  usually  given  a  breakfast  of  angleworms  with 
cutworms  for  dessert.  As  soon  as  the  sun  was  well  up  their 
diet  changed  and  they  began  to  be  supplied  with 
caterpillars  of  various  sorts,  an  occasional  grasshopper, 
and  (when  it  could  be  obtained)  fresh  fruit.  Fruit  was 
fed  sparingly,  however.  Even  in  cherry  season,  when  the 


THE  AMERICAN  ROBIN  S31 

mother  bird  is  gorging  herself  every  hour  of  the  day  on 
ripe  red  cherries,  her  young  are  given  one  only  occasion- 
ally. Evidently,  the  mother  bird  feels  that  worms  and 
bugs  are  better  food  for  producing  growth  and  feathers. 

When  the  young  birds  were  able  to  fly,  the  parents  did 
not  give  them  much  of  an  education.  When  I  think  how 
Sally  the  Wren  would  hunt  worms  and  show  them  to  her 
babies,  but  would  refuse  to  pick  them  up  herself ;  and  when 
I  remember  that  the  belted  kingfisher  would  kill  fish  and 
toss  them  into  the  water  and  make  the  young  kingfisher 
dive  for  them,  and  then  gradually  begin  merely  to  stun 
the  fish,  thus  teaching  her  children  how  to  catch  a  living, 
I  am  convinced  that  the  robin  is  a  poor  schoolmaster.  She 
is  so  concerned  with  the  welfare  of  her  children  that  she 
continues  to  feed  them  for  days  and  even  weeks  after  they 
are  able  to  fly.  I  have  seen  young  birds  hopping  about  on 
the  ground  picking  up  worms  for  themselves,  but  still  the 
over-fond  parents  were  hard  at  work  gathering  food  for 
them  and  the  greedy  little  fellows  ate  not  only  all  they 
themselves  could  find  but  all  the  parents  would  bring 
them. 

As  cold  weather  approaches  and  caterpillars  are  hard  to 
find,  the  robins,  recognizing  that  food  will  soon  be  growing 
scarce,  fly  away  to  the  Southland.  I  was  in  Texas  one 
year  when  the  robins  came  in  by  thousands  and  was  very 
much  surprized  and  amused  to  see  what  gormands  they 
really  are.  I  had  always  heard  that  when  some  people  get 
away  from  home  they  show  poor  manners.  This  certainly 
is  true  of  the  robin.  In  Texas  there  are  a  great  many 
"umbrella  china"  trees  which  bear  large  crops  of  berries 
about  the  size  of  cherries.  Most  of  the  native  birds  do  not 
eat  this  fruit,  but  no  sooner  do  the  robins  reach  Texas 


S32     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

than  they  go  on  one  long  spree.  They  make  straight  for 
the  "umbrella  china"  trees  and  begin  eating  the  berries. 
These  berries  make  them  as  drunk  as  any  old  toper  ever 
gets.  In  fact,  they  get  so  drunk  that  they  can  neither  hop 
nor  fly.  They  fall  to  the  ground  and  lie  on  their  side, 
occasionally  feebly  fluttering,  apparently  as  happy  as  any 
drunkard  in  his  cups.  No  sooner  does  the  "jag"  wear  off 
a  bit  so  that  they  are  able  to  fly  than  they  go  back  to  the 
trees  and  get  drunk  all  over  again.  Often  the  natives 
catch  these  drunken  robins,  kill,  and  eat  them,  but  the 
other  robins  do  not  seem  to  learn  wisdom  from  this.  In 
fact,  they  never  really  sober  up  until  all  the  "umbrella 
china"  berries  are  gone.  Then  they  are  good  citizens  until 
another  year  comes  around. 

Robins  prefer  to  spend  the  winter  in  the  cane  brakes 
along  the  rivers  and  swamps  from  Tennessee  southward. 
On  cold  days  they  remain  close  to  or  in  the  cane  brakes,  but 
ordinarily  they  scatter  over  the  woods  and  fields  by  day 
and  return  to  the  brakes  in  the  evening  to  roost. 

Being  a  great  lover  of  fruit,  the  robin,  in  the  minds  of  a 
great  many  farmers,  is  a  nuisance,  and  they  do  themselves 
great  injury  by  killing  him  in  cherry  time.  But  for  every 
cherry  a  robin  eats  lie  eats  hundreds  of  insects  that  would 
have  done  much  more  injury  than  the  value  of  a  cherry. 


LIV 

AZURE  WINGS  THE  BLUEBIRD 

THE  people  who  came  over  in  the  Mayflower  were 
charmed  with  a  beautiful  bird  that  appeared  in  the 
woods  about  Plymouth  early  the  next  spring  after  their 
arrival.  It  was  such  a  sweet,  happy  little  songster  and 
was  of  such  a  beautiful  brilliant  blue  that  they  were  as 
delighted  with  it  as  they  had  been  with  their  own  home 
robin.  This  bird  is  about  the  size  of  the  English  robin,  and 
has  a  dull  brick-red  breast.  Immediately  the  Pilgrims 
began  calling  it  the  blue  robin,  and  until  the  present  day 
many  of  the  children  in  New  England  know  it  by  no  other 
name. 

This  is  our  bluebird,  which  is  found  over  practically  all 
the  Eastern  United  States.  There  are,  indeed,  several 
species  of  bluebirds,  and  the  western  species  are  more 
brilliant  in  color  than  the  one  found  in  the  eastern  part 
of  the  country,  and  they  have  less  red  or  even  none  on 
their  breast.  Nevertheless,  all  of  the  species  are  as  much 
alike  as  two  kinds  of  horses,  and  they  are  all  generally 
known  all  over  the  country  simply  as  bluebirds. 

When  I  was  a  boy  we  children  took  keen  delight  in  be- 
ing the  first  to  see  a  bluebird  or  a  robin,  and  it  was  always 
an  open  question  which  bird  would  arrive  first.  In  the 
story  of  our  robin  I  noted  that  they  sometimes  stayed 


KNOWING  BIRDS  JHROUGH  STORIES 

all  winter  in  the  deep  woods  along  Skunk  River.  Blue- 
birds sometimes  did  the  same  thing,  tho  I  do  not  believe 
as  many  bluebirds  did  this  as  robins.  The  only  bluebird  I 
ever  saw  in  the  dead  of  winter  was  in  the  thick  under- 
brush in  an  oak  grove.  These  oaks  did  not  shed  their 
leaves  and  consequently  made  an  almost  perfect  wind 
break.  Brush  so  thick  had  grown  up  under  those  trees  one 
could  scarcely  get  through  it.  The  last  drumming  part- 
ridge I  ever  saw  killed  in  Iowa  flew  into  this  wilderness 
of  brush  and  trees,  and  while  we  were  creeping  through 
the  snow  looking  for  it  what  should  we  see  sitting  on  a 
stump  but  a  bluebird,  looking  like  some  beautiful  blue 
flower  on  a  background  of  white.  Perhaps  the  few  blue- 
birds that  usually  came  about  our  homes  the  last  of  Febru- 
ary or  the  first  of  March  had  stayed  in  such  places  all 
winter.  At  any  rate  it  was  usually  two  or  three  weeks 
after  we  saw  the  first  bluebirds  before  they  became 
common. 

Like  other  children,  sister  and  I  always  delighted  to 
hunt  bird's  nests,  and  the  prize  of  them  all  was  a  blue- 
bird's. We  had  been  taught  that  it  was  wrong  to  take  the 
eggs  or  in  any  way  to  break  up  a  nest,  and  we  seldom  did 
BO,  but  we  often  looked  at  the  eggs  and  helped  feed  the 
young  birds.  There  are  some  birds  that  will  promptly 
desert  their  nest  if  it  is  bothered  before  the  eggs  are 
hatched,  and  there  are  a  few  that  will  even  desert  their 
young,  but  this  was  not  true  of  mother  bluebird.  We 
birds  these  were,  and  so  seldom  touched  their  eggs  or 
young,  but  this  was  not  true  of  mother  bluebird.  We 
never  hesitated  to  handle  the  bluebird's  eggs,  but  we  were 
careful  not  to  do  this  more  than  once  or  twice  in  any  nest, 
and  of  course  were  most  careful  not  to  break  the  eggs. 


AZURE  WINGS  THE  BLUEBIRD  535 

The  bluebird  is  one  of  the  sweetest  and  cheeriest  of  our 
song  birds.  He  does  not  sit  on  the  top  of  a  tree  and  give 
a  grand  concert,  as  does  the  brown  thrasher  or  the  mock- 
ing bird.  He  merely  warbles  and  twitters  as  he  flies  or 
when  he  sees  his  mate;  but  to  my  eyes  there  is  no  prettier 
sight  than  one  of  these  beautiful  blue  creatures  hovering 
about  his  mate,  fluttering  his  wings,  and  carolling  his 
song;  and  few  birds  have  a  sweeter  song. 

Bluebirds  usually  come  north  two  or  three  weeks  be- 
fore they  build  their  nests  and  so  have  a  chance  to  select 
the  location  very  carefully.  This  they  do.  I  have  known 
a  pair  of  bluebirds  to  examine  more  than  a  half  dozen 
sites,  even  carrying  a  few  pieces  of  grass  or  other  nesting 
material  to  each  before  finally  settling  on  a  place  to  build ; 
but  I  have  never  seen  a  bluebird  family  make  a  foolish 
choice.  Normally  they  nest  in  deserted  woodpeckers'  holes, 
or  similar  hollows  in  trees,  but  they  are  quick  to  see  the 
advantage  of  a  regular  bird  house.  When  we  boys  in  the 
neighborhood  began  to  construct  martin  houses  the  blue- 
birds usually  took  possession  at  once;  and  as  they  come 
north  al  least  three  or  four  weeks  earlier  than  the  martins, 
they  often  had  their  nests  pretty  well  constructed  when  the 
martins  came.  If  martins  had  been  in  the  habit  of  nesting 
in  any  locality,  they  usually  entered  these  houses  when  they 
arrived  and  started  tumbling  the  bluebirds'  nests  on  the 
ground.  Then  there  was  trouble  at  once.  \.  martin  is  a 
larger  and  stronger  bird  than  a  bluebird,  and  one  would 
suppose  from  watching  them  fly  that  they  were  swifter  as 
well;  nevertheless  it  has  been  my  experience  that,  at  least 
three  times  out  of  five,  the  bluebird  comes  out  victorious 
and  chases  the  martins  away.  This  is  not  always  true, 
however.  Milo  Lemley,  one  of  my  nearest  neighbors  and 


336     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

a  boy  of  about  my  own  age,  was  somewhat  of  a  genius  in 
building  and  decorating  martin  houses.  He  usually  had 
several  in  his  yard  and  garden,  and  it  was  always  my  envy 
that  martins  nested  in  every  one  of  these.  I  especially  re- 
member one,  a  very  elaborate  martin  house  with  eight  or 
ten  compartments  in  it,  and  this  house  never  failed  to 
have  a  pair  of  martins  in  each  room.  The  bluebirds  never 
succeeded  in  driving  the  martins  from  any  of  Milo's 
houses,  and  at  their  place  the  bluebird's  nest  nearest  to  the 
house  was  in  an  old  apple  tree  in  the  orchard,  where  a 
woodpecker  had  made  a  hole  and  built  a  nest  some  years 
before.  At  our  house  it  was  different.  The  only  pair  of 
martins  that  ever  succeeded  in  gaining  possession  of  any 
of  the  houses  I  put  up  was  the  pair  that  were  responsible 
for  the  death  of  Jerry  the  kingbird.  No  matter  where  I 
put  a  house,  bluebirds  promptly  took  possession  of  it. 

There  were  battles  royal,  however,  in  both  places  almost 
every  spring;  for  if  a  pair  of  bluebirds  got  into  trouble 
over  a  nesting  place,  all  the  bluebirds  in  the  neighborhood 
came  to  their  help,  and  the  same  was  true  of  martins. 
Doubtless  more  martins  lived  at  Milo's  place  than  there 
were  bluebirds  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  while  at  our  place 
the  bluebirds  were  so  numerous  that  enough  martins  never 
came  that  way  to  outnumber  them. 

The  bluebird  lays  a  beautiful  light  blue  egg.  There  are 
usually  four  or  six  of  these,  and  the  birds  generally  raise 
three  broods  of  young  in  a  summer.  The  father  is  a  model 
husband ;  he  delights  to  feed  his  mate  not  only  during  their 
courtship,  but  when  she  is  sitting  he  makes  it  his  business 
to  see  that  she  is  well  supplied  with  food;  and  as  soon  as 
the  young  are  hatched,  he  is  so  busy  all  day  long  catching 
worms  and  insects  to  fill  the  baby  mouths  that  he  doesn't 


AZURE  WINGS  THE  BLUEBIRD  337 

have  time  to  sing.  For  this  reason  we  seldom  hear  the 
bluebird's  song  after  the  first  young  are  hatched.  No 
sooner  does  a  brood  get  old  enough  to  leave  the  nest  than 
the  father  takes  full  charge  of  them,  gives  them  their  edu- 
cation, fights  for  their  safety  any  bird  that  comes  his  way, 
and  even  goes  so  far  as  to  drive  the  house  cat  from  their 
vicinity.  In  the  meantime  the  mother  bird  rests  a  few 
days  and  then  begins  the  task  of  rearing  a  second  brood. 
By  the  time  she  is  sitting  again  the  young  birds  are  usually 
able  to  look  after  themselves,  at  which  time  the  father, 
without  a  day's  vacation,  returns  to  his  duty  of  feeding 
her.  In  the  early  spring  we  often  see  bluebirds  alight  on 
the  plowed  ground,  and  if  insects  are  scarce  and  there  is 
a  young  family  to  feed,  they  may  even  follow  the  plow  all 
day  long  for  grubs  and  worms.  By  the  time  the  third 
family  is  ready  to  fly  it  is  time  to  think  of  the  trip  to  the 
southland.  So  the  bluebird  leads  a  busy  life  in  the 
summer. 

I  was  in  Texas  one  fall  when  the  bluebirds  began  to 
arrive  from  the  North.  They  did  not  come  with  the  joyous 
song  with  which  they  arrive  in  the  spring  in  the  North. 
Instead  they  seemed  to  be  dull  and  sad.  They  would  sit 
about  on  trees,  occasionally  giving  utterance  to  a  sad  little 
chirp.  Each  day  they  arrived  in  greater  numbers  until 
by  the  first  of  November  they  could  be  seen  by  the  hun- 
dreds any  day.  At  first  I  thought  they  were  dull  because 
they  were  tired  after  their  long  journey,  but  as  the  days 
wore  by  and  there  was  no  change  I  became  convinced  that 
it  was  their  normal  way  of  acting.  Evidently  they  do  not 
love  the  Southland  as  well  as  their  northern  home,  and 
feel  that  they  are  simply  forced  to  come  South  by  the 
hard  winter. 


338     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

The  most  beautiful  of  all  our  American  species  are  the 
Arctic  bluebirds.  They  live  from  far  north  in  Northern 
British  Columbia  south  to  Chihuahua  and  New  Mexico.  I 
became  acquainted  with  them  in  Washington  and  Oregon. 
They  are  a  brilliant  ultra-marine  blue,  with  lighter  blue 
beneath,  and  have  no  red  breast. 

You  will  have  no  trouble  in  recognizing  the  bluebird, 
because  it  is  the  only  bird  that  is  blue  with  a  red  breast. 
In  size  it  is  only  slightly  larger  than  a  sparrow,  though 
it  is  plumper  and  fuller  breasted.  The  only  other  bird  that 
would  possibly  be  confused  with  it  is  the  indigo  bunting, 
and  it  has  no  red  breast,  is  a  slender  bird,  and  is  smaller 
than  our  bluebird.  Besides,  it  does  not  come  early  in  the 
spring  and  is  not  so  sweet  a  songster. 

Keys  to  the  Families  of  Passeres 

ALAUDIDX — Larks. 

Rather  plainly  colored  birds,  with  the  tarsus  rounded  behind,  the 
hind  toe  much  lengthened,  the  bill  rather  stout,  and  the  nostrils  with 
bristly  tufts. 

COTINGID^E — Cotingas   and   Becards. 

Plumage  usually,  at  least  in  part,  of  bright  colors,  the  tarsus  rounded 
behind,  the  hind  toe  not  lengthened,  and  the  hind  face  of  the  tarsus 
with  numerous  small  scales. 

TYRANNID.S — American    Flycatchers. 

Dull  colored  birds  of  mostly  grayish,  yellowish,  or  olivaceous  plumage, 
with  the  tarsus  rounded  behind,  the  hind  toe  not  lengthened,  the  bill 
•usually  flattish,  and  bristly  at  base,  the  hind  face  of  tarsus  without 
numerous  small  scales. 

HlRUNDINIDJE Swallows. 

Bill  short,  broad,  and  flat,  without  bristles  at  base ;  feet  small ;  tarsus 
short   and  sharply  ridged  behind ;  the  longest  primary  at   least   twice 
as  long  as  the  secondaries;  plumage  often  in  part  metallic. 
CINCLID.S — Dippers. 

Plumage  dull  colored,  densely  downy  underneath;  tarsus  not  trans- 
versely scaled  except  at  the  very  lowest  part;  tail  very  short;  and 
nostrils  linear. 

CHAM.KID.* — Wren-tits. 

Plumage  brownish,  not  densely  downy;  tarsus  not  scaled;  tail  much 
longer  than  wing;  nostrils  oval. 

TURDIDJE — Thrushes,    Solitaires,    and  Bluebirds. 

Of  moderate  size,  the  length  of  the  wing  more  than  3  inches;  tail 
not  longer  than  the  wing;  the  tarsus  not  scaled  except  at  the  very 
lowest  part;  the  bill  moderately  slender,  the  upper  mandible  notched 
near  its  tip;  the  tail  square  or  nearly  so;  and  the  first  primary  very 
short. 


KEY  TO  FAMILIES  OF  PASSERES  389 

— Warblers   and   Kinglets. 
Small  birds  of  mostly  dull  colored  plumage;   the  wings  less  than   3 
inches   in    length;    the  bill   slender;    and    the   first   primary   very   short, 
about  one-third  of  the  longest. 

COEREBID.X — Honey  Creepers. 

Brightly  colored  small  birds  with  the  bill  strongly  curved  downward 
from  the  base,  and  tail-feathers  rounded  at  tips. 

ICTERIC^ — Blackbirds   and   American   Orioles. 

Bill  straight  or  nearly  so,  more  or  less  cone-shaped,  and  not  notched 
at  the  tip,  the  gape  without  bristles;  plumage  mostly  yellow,  orange, 
black,  and  white. 

FRINGILLID.S — Sparrows  and  Finches. 

Bill  more  or  less  cone-shaped  usually  short  and  stout,  the  gape  with 
bristles ;  the  third  and  fourth  primaries  usually  of  about  the  same 
length;  the  nostrils  concealed  by  feathers  or  overhung  by  a  horny 
scale,  or  else  the  cutting  edge  of  lower  mandible  forming  a  distinct 
angle  near  its  base. 

TANGARID.S — Tanagers. 

Like  the  FRINGILLID.S,  but  nostrils  not  concealed  by  feathers  or  over- 
hung by  a  horny  scale;  and  the  cutting  edges  of  lower  mandidle  not 
forming  a  distinct  angle  near  its  base. 

MOTACILLIWE — Wagtails  and  Pipits. 

Bill  relatively  slender;  claw  9f  the  hind  toe  as  long  or  longer  than 
the  toe  itself;  tertials  reaching  nearly  or  quite  to  the  tip  of  the 
wing. 

COMPSOTHLYPID^B — Wood  Warblers. 

Small  birds,  usually  under  6  inches  in  length ;  plumage  usually 
bright-colored;  bill  not  notched  nor  decidedly  hooked  at  the  tip;  the 
second  or  third  primary  the  longest. 

VIREONIOS — Vireos. 

Small  birds,  plumage  mostly  olive  green  and  gray  and  white;  bill  rela- 
tively stout,  without  conspicuous  bristles  at  the  base,  notched  and  dis- 
tinctly hooked  at  the  tip;  the  basal  joint  of  middle  toe  united  for  all  its 
length  to  the  two  lateral  toes. 

LANIIOSZ — Shrikes. 

Plumage  gray,  black,  and  white;  length  about  8  inches  or  9  inches; 
the  bill  strongly  notched  and  hooked  at  the  tip,  almost  hawk-like. 

CERTHIID.S — Creepers. 

Size  small;  plumage,  brownish  and  white;  the  bill  long,  slender  and 
curved;  tail-feathers  stiffened,  with  lengthened  sharply-pointed  tips. 

BOMBYCILLID.S — Waxwings. 

Head  crested;  bill  short  and  broad  at  base,  the  length  of  the  keel 
of  the  lower  mandible  decidedly  less  than  the  width  of  the  bill  at 
base;  the  outermost  primary  less  than  half  as  long  as  the  primary 
coverts;  feathers  between  the  eyes  and  bill  dense  and  velvety;  plumage 
generally  soft  and  its  colors  blended. 

PTILOGONATID.E — Phainopeplas. 

Like  the  BOMBYCILLID.S,  but  with  the  outermost  primary  much 
longer  than  the  primary  coverts,  and  the  feathers  of  the  space  be- 
tween the  eye  and  the  bill  not  dense  and  velvety. 

PARID*— Titmice   and   Chickadees. 

Small  birds  of  mostly  black,  white,  and  gray  plumage;  bill  short  and 
stout,  not  notched  at  the  tip,  the  nostrils  more  or  less  covered  with 
bristly  feathers;  the  basal  joint  of  middle  toe  usually  united  for  all 
of  its  length  to  the  two  lateral  toes. 

TROGLODYTID^: — Wrens. 

Bill  lengthened,  rather  slender,  and  not  hooked  at  tip;  nostrils  not 
covered  with  feathers  and  bristles;  the  basal  joint  of  middle  toe  united 
for  all  of  its  length  to  the  two  lateral  toes;  plumage  usually  brown  or 
brownish  and  white. 


340     KNOWING  BIRDS  THROUGH  STORIES 

STUXNID.K — Starlings. 

Plumage  more  or  less  metallic;  bill  more  or  less  flattened  at  the 
baise  of  the  upper  mandible ;  wings  long  and  pointed,  the  first  primary 
less  than  half  an  inch  long. 

SmiDX — Nuthatches. 

Small  birds  with  slender  bills ;  nostrils  more  or  less  covered  with  a 
tuft  of  bristly  feathers;  wings  long,  the  first  primary  less  than  an 
inch  in  length ;  the  tail  short ;  the  hind  toe  longer  than  the  outer 
anterior  toe. 

CORVID.* — Crows  and  Jays. 

Size  moderate  or  large,  the  length  of  wing  more  than  4  inches;  the 
nostrils  quite  covered  with  a  tuft  of  bristles,  or  else  circular,  or  dse 
the  base  of  culmen  broad  and  flattened  feet  and  legs  stout;  tail  more 
or  less  rounded ;  first  primary  one-half  inch  or  more  shorter  than  the 
second. 

MIMIDJK — Thrashers  and   Mocking  Birds. 

Size  moderate,  the  birds  from  about  8  to  12  inches  in  length;  tail 
rather  long  and  decidedly  rounded;  length  of  wing  more  than  3  inches; 
base  of  upper  mandible  not  flattened;  nostrils  not  circular  nor  covered 
with  bristly  feathers;  bill  not  stout,  but  moderately  long. 


Head  of  CARDINAL 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


BIOLOGY 

TM7T!"^^?7T  ft    1TO  ' 

LIBRARY 

. 

ii   .-.-.- 

MAY  1  r  1QRS 

Ifint    JL  n    IJJvQ 

LD  21-10m-7,'39(402s) 

Bralliar,  F 
Knowineb 


oyd, 

rds  through 


B7 
Biol. 


stories 


AN    22   194 


libr. 


M92341 


^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


